Left Behind
by Shiggity Shwa
Summary: An AU look at what could have happened in season 4. All of Team Jack is safely rescued save for Jack and Kate. Spoilers for season 4 and of course has JackKate pairing
1. Waves

_A/N: Yay! New story time! This story is an AU look at what could have happened in season 4. So it contains spoilers for season 4. Also it started off as a oneshot, but I think I'm going to continue it and bring more characters into it._

Left Behind

The sky is a dull gray when she decides that there's no use in trying to sleep. Too much is happening way too fast and even when she rests, her brain still tries to analyze the pile of events that created the last few months.

The only thing that greets her as a swift wind helps to pull back the tarp is the looming sky. It's tarnished like ancient silver, copper swirls decorate the horizon, the only sign of the growing sunrise. The spring weather brought around harsh storms that ravaged the beach; they used to sleep in the caves, not only for protection, but because they were closer to the clearing that way.

She bends over, and her fingers struggle to reach the frayed ends on her cargo pants. The same pants she was wearing when they crashed here one hundred and eighty-four days ago. After a few minutes, she successfully rolls the thinning material halfway up her leg to rest just underneath her knee, and then mimics the action with her left leg.

Even though the wind is strong, the water is barely lapping at the shore, the slate color disappearing into the sand before the next lazy wave collapses on top. Her feet move into the sand, smooth grains coating her rough heels as she takes the last few steps into the surf. She immediately starts to sink.

Cold water pricks at her toes like needles when the waves fall over her feet. The air on the beach is cold too, but that's not what's making her uncomfortable. The beach is empty. Abandoned and destroyed shelters stand alone on the beach like sentinels. They're old and worn from the constant change in weather, the sporadic rainfall and hurricane winds.

She glances down at her feet, now numb and finds they are invisible to her. The impossible is happening, and a discontent sigh escapes her mouth as her eyes scan the horizon for any sign of a helicopter. But like every day for the thirty-one days, there is none.

"Hey," he means for his voice to beckon her away from the water, but she doesn't even bother to look behind her. She knows it's him. They're the only ones left.

He sets down a backpack by what's left of the kitchen, though now it's more like a bin containing the remaining Dharma food. He tries to approach her casually, act like he isn't afraid of what might happen, or why she's up, "are you okay?"

It's an obvious question to ask when someone is standing in icy waters and heavy winds before sunrise, but the answer is an obvious one as well; she's not discomforted by anything except being left behind. "I'm fine, Jack."

Jack's teeth flash as he grins, but she knows it's an act. For the last thirty-one days they've been on this beach with only each other, she knows when he's faking, knows that he's forcing this friendship between them because he doesn't want her to be alone. "Couldn't sleep?"

It's too early to be angry, though his constant questions are a match for her gunpowder keg. She decides that she doesn't want to be irritated with Jack, at least not right now, "I swear the sand is lumpier now, it hurts my back."

"You could try sleeping with a pillow between your legs," Jack's concentration is elsewhere as his eyes scan from her bare feet in the water, to her bare arms in the wind, "Where's your sweater?"

"It doesn't fit anymore," her voice is stoic and her eyes are now back on the horizon, praying that the helicopter will grow against the sunrise as it had so many times before, but only the cool metallic sky remains.

Jack fidgets beside her, and before she can look over, the dark blue sweater he was wearing a minute ago is crumpled in his hands, and being thrust into hers, "Here."

"Jack," her eyes dart from the sweater to his face, so unaffected and almost naïve, it cools her anger and she shakes her head, "I'll go back to my tent, keep your sweater."

"You don't have to go back, just take the sweater, you're going to need it sooner or later anyways," his hands pressure the knitted wool into hers.

She smiles a thank you and pulls the large sweater over her head and is shocked when the heat is instantaneous. The material hangs off her arms and it's almost long enough for her to wear as a dress, but there is less give around her abdomen where she needs it. She stares down at her hands, almost completely covered by fuzzy wool, and wants to hug Jack.

Heat spreads through her arm as his hand closes over her bicep, grabbing her attention. When her eyes meet his, they're wide and full of fear that he is trying to pass as concern, "Are you really okay?"

"Yeah," she nods and resists touching his hand with hers, "I was just looking for the helicopter," at her revelation his face drops a bit, and his eyes grow dark with shame, "I was thinking that it might be better if I just stayed here."

Jack's jaw sets and his hand drops. Whatever he's thinking is what's going to happen, "You can't stay here Kate," he shakes his head trying to vent the aggravation that she thinks stems from his inability to leave her, "If you stay here you'll die."

"Yeah, well," she shrugs and tucks a piece of her hair the wind is playing with behind her ear, "If I go back I'm going to get the death sentence, so I guess it's pretty much even."

"You can't stay here Kate," he repeats, his voice and posture the same. He still won't look at her sinking in the waves, arms crossed over her chest trying to hide what they both can see so clearly. "Sawyer doesn't know."

"Sawyer doesn't want to know," her voice runs bitter with hate. Hate that she doesn't even have a justification for, because Sawyer really doesn't know.

Jack can sense her mood change, see her body arch away from his, her eyes turn into slits as she glares at the motionless ocean. His hand reaches over and takes hers from where it's stuffed under her arm; the pads of his fingers are light on her skin. Whenever he touches her now, he's always overly cautious, like she might shatter at any moment.

Tears cloud her vision for a moment, but she manages to blink them away and stare at their hands awkwardly entwined. "I will get you off this island Kate," his voice is clear and strong with full belief in the words he speaks, "I promise you that I will get you off this island."

Kate doesn't know who initiates it, maybe it was her stumbling as she pulled her feet from the sticky sand, or his endless need to care for her, but they hug. His arms press against her waist, keeping clear of her stomach as she wraps her arms around his neck. It's impromptu and the weirdest action either of them have ever participated in, but they both draw comfort from it.

Her head rests against his shoulder, her chin against the thin gray shirt she left him in, her cheek against the cooling skin on his neck, "I believe you."

* * *

_I hope you enjoyed it. Please review and tell me what you thought, and if you would like it continued at all_


	2. Time

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter. I'm glad so many poeple liked the story, so I've decided to continue it. PLease remember to review if you liked the story._

**Disclaimer: (I forgot it) I don't own Lost, or so many characters would be gone by now.**

Left Behind

Chapter 2

Time

The sun is still hiding behind the clouds when they sit down to eat breakfast. Kate's feet are still bare and the dull sand still clumps together like packing snow whenever she walks. She thinks it's the extra weight but every time she mentions it, Jack always answers that it's because of the rain.

They sit across from each other, rather than beside. Neither of them are ready for that step, neither are ready to come to grips with what has happened and what is happening as they eat a mixture of tropical fruit and dry cereal.

The meal is mostly silent; the only time either of them talks is when Jack explains that he took an early morning hike to hidden fruit trees they haven't been picking from. She knows it's a lie, sometimes he leaves early to check the phone at the clearing and see if he can get a signal. Sometimes he leaves to check out the surroundings, to make sure that Locke or the Others or some other threat they haven't heard from in a little less than three months hasn't suddenly resurfaced. Sometimes he just leaves because he needs to be alone. She knows because sometimes she follows him.

Kate brings her knees up so she can rest her chin on them. The movement takes a little longer, and is less graceful than she's used to, but she appreciates that she can still do it. She thinks that in less than a month she won't be able to.

Her arms wrap around her legs, and she watches as Jack drinks from a water bottle that's held together with a bit of duct tape. She doesn't feel like eating, the bananas and papayas aren't sitting very well with her, and cereal just isn't the same without milk.

She hides her face when she thinks of last week, when she really got her first craving. The endless thought of milk and the need to drink it by the gallon. Whether it was out of caring for her, or fear of her, Jack let her have the last box of powdered milk, that thankfully assuaged the yearning. It's embarrassing the things she has to go through, but the memory of how submissive Jack was makes her smile.

Across from her, he sets the water into a groove in the sand and glances up, catching her smile, "What?" his question brings a smile to his own face.

"Nothing," her answer is almost immediate and the vehement shaking of her head only makes her look guiltier.

Jack chuckles, the mirth actually reaches his eyes and she knows that this is a genuine laugh. It almost warms her inside, but he notices the uneaten pile of food beside her and Dr. Shephard once again returns, "Not hungry?"

Kate's smile remains but it stretches when she purses her lips together, "No, my stomach," her hand falls to the bump underneath Jack's sweater, and their eyes meet. This is the first time they actually acknowledge the physical part of her pregnancy with concrete actions. Her faces flushes as she retracts her hand quickly, and the smile is gone, "I'm just not that hungry."

He nods, his eyes finding the sand once again, and no more is said on the subject, "I was thinking we could take a walk up to the clearing, it might be good for us to get away from the beach."

"Okay," her voice is hesitant since the hope she has every morning when she first wakes up diffuses greatly throughout the day. She watches as he stands from the ground and brushes the lingering grains from his jeans. When he offers her his hand, she takes it and is thankful that she can still stand up with minimal ease.

They agree to leave at eleven thirty, which would give them enough time to make it to the clearing and back to the beach before dark. Jack cleans up the remains of their breakfast, packing the fruit and extra food into his bag as Kate walks to the opposite side of the beach to wash up and change her clothing. He watches her walk and notices that there is a slight waddle in it now, for a moment the thought brings a smile to his face, but then he remembers the exact situation.

It's nearing ten thirty when he looks down to his watch; he'll go and check on her in half an hour if she's not back yet. He keeps busy by packing the bags for the trip, making sure that Kate's pack only contains light objects. He packs extras of everything, because Juliet warned him what could happen. What has happened.

Jack stops packing and exhales a breath that feels like it's been strangling him. He's wants to help Kate. He wants to protect her from whatever it is on this island that wants to harm her. He wants to save Kate, get her as far away from this island as he can, and know that she's safe and well. He has to do it, and it has to be within the next two months.

He remembers the day when everyone moved into groups to board the helicopter. How she refused to go when he told her too, how she waited until every other person left the island before her and the next week when the helicopter was supposed to return, how her face fell. He remembers waiting in that field until sunset and sometime after because she refused to move. He remembers how the dying sunlight framed her profile and he really noticed what he didn't have time too before.

Now Jack carries all the medical supplies with him all the time. He always has a gun tucked away in the back of his pants in case the time comes when they'll need it. Until they get off this island, she's all he has left. He shakes his head at the thought and knows that she'll always be the only thing he has left.

Time passes, and the sun still won't show its face. Jack glances down to check the time on his watch and his stomach falls. His watch still reads ten thirty and when he brings his wrist to his ear, no ticking can be heard over the sloshing waves. Time finally stopped.

A thin sweat spreads over his skin as he rises to his feet. He has no idea how much time really has passed, how long Kate has been out there by herself. He told her to take a gun, gave one to her, but she refused.

His hand reaches back, grabbing at the gun nestled underneath his waistband as his heart thumps inside his chest. Just before his legs move to sprint over the beach a voice calls out to him, "Jack."

It's not Kate. The voice is low and coming from the opposite side of the beach, and makes him stop dead in his tracks because he doesn't have to look to know who it belongs too.

Locke is standing a few yards down the beach, perfectly between the surf and the tree line. His face twists into the same unsettling grin Jack has known for one hundred and eighty-four days. His clothes are clean and in his hands is rope leading to, Ben, who stands beside him.

"Morning Jack," Locke greets when Jack slowly approaches him. Ben stands still, but his eyes are taking in the ravaged remains on the beach.

"What are you doing here John," the words jumble into a huff as they leave Jack's mouth. He stops a few feet before them, his arms akimbo as he waits for their answer. He doesn't want them to come any closer to the camp. He doesn't want them to know that Kate is here, or of her condition, or tell Sawyer either of those things.

Locke laughs, carefree like he's making rounds at a party, "I guess you wouldn't buy that we were just in the neighborhood."

When Jack replies with silence Ben questions, "Are you here all alone, Jack?"

"Yeah," he crosses his arms in defense over his chest, praying that Kate will just stay where she is, "Everyone else went home."

"Really?" Ben raises his eyebrows in surprise and ignores when Locke sends him a glare, "you must get lonely out here."

"I find things to keep busy."

"Look," Locke changes his stance and chooses to ignore the news of their friends' rescue, "Claire is very ill Jack, and we thought you might be able to help her."

"How did you know that I'd still be here?" Jack chances a look behind him, and tries not to react when he still sees no sign of Kate.

Locke shrugs, "We didn't but we figured there would be no harm in seeing if you were still here."

Jack falls quiet. Claire has never done him any harm, and if the illness is serious Aaron could be left without a mother. But he also considers that if the helicopter returned and rescued him from this island, he wouldn't be here to help her.

"Where is she Jack?" Ben's lips fall into a superior smirk as he watches Jack's composure begin to break.

Jack grinds his teeth together a moment before answering, "Who?"

"Kate," Ben reply is blunt and he moves a little away from Locke, pulling on the slack rope.

Jack shakes his head, "How do—"

"Two bags packed," Ben nods at the twin packs left outside her tent, "and different footprints and strides. It doesn't surprise me really," he turns to Locke with a menacing look, "But you not noticing did, John."

"Kate was rescued yesterday," Jack lies before bickering can break out between Locke and Ben, "She left her bag, I brought it back with me."

"Really?" Ben asks again. The same smile is on his face, and even though his hands are tied with rope, it still seems like he's in the position of power.

As Jack opens his mouth to answer, Locke shifts Ben's reins to the opposite hand and points a finger down the beach. Kate is less than ten yards away, close enough to see that she's no longer wearing the blue sweater in the growing warmth of the afternoon. Close enough to see her protruding midsection through her stretching white tank top.

She stops, immediately maneuvering the sweater so a greater portion of it hangs over her front rather than her back and reaches up to tuck a phantom strand of hair behind her ear even though she's pulled it into a messy bun on the top of her head. Her eyes catch his and there's an overflow of unspoken apologies between the two of them.

"I can see why you've been so busy," Locke smiles and nods to Kate, who is moving directly towards her tent.

Jack sets his jaw and knows that something is off. He knows about the history of pregnant women on the island, what can happen to them, what the Others have done to them. And he knows that Locke believes in what the Others have done.

Locke seems to know Jack's train of thought, and holds up his empty hand, "Look Jack," he begins, "The only reason we came to you is for Claire. She really does need a doctor." Locke moves away at the end of his sentence, and pulls Ben along with him to a tree where he ties the rope, "why don't you talk it over with Kate, she's welcome to come."

"She's not going anywhere with you," Jack's voice is heated but Locke shrugs off the reaction.

Locke's eyebrow arches for a second and before entering into the jungle, he questions, "Wouldn't it be safer for her if you had all the prior information on pregnancies? The medical data and the equipment to do something if the occasion arises?"

Jack's eyes close and a frustrated sigh escapes his mouth. They could go with Locke. Help Claire, and he could spend sleepless nights reading up on how he might help Kate but that would mean giving up on rescue.

"Could I please have some water?" Ben's voice reaches out from where he's tied to a tree.

Jack looks up and sees the expectant look on Ben's face. He nods and moves away to retrieve a bottle from his bag. He doesn't understand why Locke keeps Ben alive, or treats him like an animal. It's been almost three months and Ben is still paraded around with ropes.

When Jack hands Ben the bottle, he takes it and gulps down half the content without a single breath, "Thank you," he mutters after the contents are gone.

Jack doesn't answer, and when he turns around intent on talking to Kate about the choice they have to make, Ben shouts out to him, "You and I got off on the wrong foot."

"Yeah," Jack agrees without thinking, "I guess we did."

"But we both have a mutual enemy in Locke."

Jack shakes his head, "I'm not going to untie you, Ben."

"I won't hurt her," Ben persists, his eyes wide and his head nodding for emphasis, "You have my word."

"That doesn't matter," Jack takes the empty bottle from the other man, "You wouldn't hurt her, but you could still take her."

Ben watches him carefully, his eyes follow Jack's movements until the doctor stops and watches Kate fix one of the tarps on her tent, "You care for her so much, but you know for a fact that the baby's not yours." He watches Jack's body stiffen, "Well Jack, you showed me some humanity, and I think that I'm going to repay you the favor."

"What?" Jack asks, his body turning back to Ben.

"Well," Ben clears his throat and looks pass Jack to Kate, "I don't think that Juliet informed you about everything she knew on Kate's pregnancy."

"She told me everything she knew before you killed her," the plastic water bottle cracks in Jack's hand.

Ben smiles slightly, his eyes lifting to the gray sky above the canopy of trees, "not everything."

"Like what?" Jack questions as he tosses the broken bottle to the ground and walks toward Ben.

"Well for one, the baby isn't James'."

* * *

_Next Chapter - Jack and Kate decide whether or not to follow Locke... Oh and the whole 'baby daddy' thing is explained. _


	3. Experiments

_A/N: Thanks again to everyone who reviewed. I love it when people tell me which part of the story they liked and just the fact that you like it at all.  
The baby daddy thing is explained here (or is it (I'm a wiley one) but not whether or not Jack and Kate choose to go with Locke (that will be in the next chapter). This story is semi-cannon, being that is concersn certain events that have happened throughout season 4, but is based eighty-four (? (eighty-something) days after 4x03.  
Thank you once again to everyone who reviewed and to the lovely compliments (I blush so easily) you gave me.  
And I'm glad everyone is okay with the baby not being Sawyer's. Finally I'm glad no one has a problem with the tense (this is only the 5th time (I'm counting the all three chapters serperately) that I have written in present tense. _

Left Behind

Chapter 3

Experiments

Inside his chest, Jack's heart stops for a moment. The words Ben just spoke preoccupy his brain to the point where he must tell himself to breathe. After the initial shock wears off he croaks out a, "What?"

Ben chuckles, the corners of his thin lips turning upright. He looks just like a shark before it bits into flesh, "Kate's baby. James is not the father." He states it so simply, as if it were a well known fact.

"How do you know that?" Jack blurts the words out and finds himself moving closer to the man he tried to kill a few months ago.

"Juliet told you she was a fertility doctor, right?" Ben sends a skeptical glance to Jack over the circular rims that hold his glasses together, "Really Jack you should have put two and two together by now."

Jack says nothing in response to the question or the insult. Only waits for the other man to continue. Ben sighs, "Before," he gestures his head around to the beach, "All this happened, my people were still trying to find a solution to the pregnancy problem on the island." He turns his head away from Jack, know that what he has to say next is not going to have a positive outcome, "We needed young mothers, and no one in our camp was volunteering so—"

"So you just took Kate?" Jack felt his face flush red with rage while moving closer to the man tied to a tree, "You just thought you'd take her and experiment on her?"

"She's healthy and active Jack," Ben's words stumble out quickly now as Jack's patience began to run dry, "When we took you, Kate and James they were used to convince you to do the surgery. Her being a perfect candidate for Juliet's research was just an added bonus."

Jack's hands close into fists. He tries to keep his voice down for Kate's sake. He doesn't want her to know all this, at least find out this way, "she never did anything to you and you take her and experiment on her and get her pregnant when you know it's going to kill her?"

Ben shakes his head, the heels of his shoes pushing into the ground to gain what little distance between himself and Jack that he can, "that's the thing Jack," his voice is calm once again, "Juliet's new research involved a different kind of artificial insemination. She created it in the real world and perfected it here. All she needed was samples from the two subjects' blood. If Kate conceived in that method, in theory she should be able to carry to term and survive the delivery of a healthy baby."

"You still used her," Jack shakes his head and turns away from Ben, "You did this to her and then you let her believe that it's all her fault." He turns back and points a hand to Kate's tent, "she's terrified. She only has two months left until the end of her second trimester."

"Is she afraid Jack, or are you?" Ben's voice is level and controlled as he watches Jack pace about.

Jack ignores the interjection; his hand rubs the back of his neck as his brain mulls over all the details, "you've killed Claire too. Kate won't go back to the barracks because Sawyer is there."

"But Sawyer's not the father," Ben reminds his voice stronger to get attention.

"Then who is?" Jack throws his arms out with a final huff, "Did you just randomly select someone?"

Ben's lips curl again, "Why don't you tell me Jack?" he lowers his voice and something about his smile turns more sinister, "When you woke up in the aquarium did you have a bandage on your arm?"

Jack freezes in place and mechanically looks down to his arm. He remembers waking up on the table in the room covered in rusting metal, the chains hanging from the ceiling, the glass wall that was almost invisible. He also remembers pulling a bandage off his arm with a cotton ball used for clotting his blood.

His head shoots back up to Ben's who looks almost pleased that Jack's finally figured it out, "Juliet insisted that we use your biological material, or she would refuse to do the experiment."

"You're lying," Jack moves away, not interested in listening to anymore lies bent on inveigling him to untie Ben.

Ben furrows his eyebrows, "Why would I lie?"

"Why would you start telling the truth now?" Jack counters as he turns his back to the immobile man.

"I'm telling the truth Jack," Ben shouts after him as he strains against the ropes.

Jack shakes his head and doesn't look back; the words Ben speaks are always double sided and used to his own advantage. He doesn't plan on telling Kate about the conversation, only that they need to make a choice about whether or not to follow Locke into the jungle and temporally forget about the helicopter.

His hand bunches the blue tarp that acts as a door, and he peers into the tent. Kate's sitting on one of the intact plane seats, her elbows on her knees and her hands covering her face. He doesn't bother calling to her, or asking permission into her tent, only makes sure the tarp is tightly set in place.

Jack's feet drag as he slowly crosses the small expanse of space inside the tent, allowing Kate the time to compose herself. But she doesn't. She's still crying just as hard when he's standing in front of her, and something inside of him shatters like a dropped piece of glass.

He kneels before her, and places a hand on her shaking knee, "hey," he wants his voice to sound strong and confidant, but it's almost inaudible.

Kate's hands drop from her face revealing red eyes, a red nose and shiny tear-stained cheeks, "I'm sorry Jack," she wipes at her eyes and turns her head away from him, "I didn't know Locke was there, I should have just waited for you to come and get me."

"It's okay, Kate," his feet shuffle closer and his empty hand moves up to rest on her other knee, "I was getting worried any—"

"But you work so hard to make sure that I'm safe," her voice louder than his and usurps the conversation. Two new fat tears make their way down her cheeks and she hiccups from crying.

Before he knows exactly what he's doing, one of his hands is resting on the side of her face and his thumb gently rubs the new tear away, "Kate, it's okay," he repeats his words because the softness of her skin underneath his fingers is distracting him.

If Kate notices, she doesn't seem to care. She simply nods into his hand and closes her eyes. After a few minutes, his hands leave her body and he props himself up onto the cushion beside her, "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah," she nods again and lets out one last snivel.

Jack sighs and runs his hands over the back of his head. The impact the answer to this question will have on him is immense, part of him doesn't even want to know. "When the Others took us, separated us and drugged us at the harbor," he turns away from her face and focuses on his hands clasping together on top of his knees. The Others and what happened when they were taken has never fully been disclosed between Kate, Sawyer and himself.

Ben was probably lying; he has no reason to tell the truth to Jack. Just like when Ben was trapped in the closet, he's trying to wheedle his way into freedom. But still Jack had to know if there is some chance that Kate is pregnant with his child, "When you woke up, did you have a bandage on your arm? Here?" Jack points to the spot on his arm where he ripped the bandage off.

Kate's eyes slightly squint. He can tell that she doesn't understand why he's asking her this question, but doesn't interrupt it to ask why, "Yeah I did," her finger falls to the same place on her arm, "I think they took blood from me."

"Oh," is the only sound Jack can make. An overload of feelings sideswipes him and he doesn't know on which one to concentrate first.

He needs to get Kate off this island. He needs to know more about the pregnancy issues so if in two months they're still here, he can help her. He wants to hold her close, tangle his fingers in her hair, cry onto her shoulder everything that Ben just revealed to him and promise that he'll never abandon her like Sawyer did. He wants to lay a hand flat on her stomach and ask her all the questions that he's been wanting to, but has been too afraid to because it was none of his business. He's furious at Ben and as furious as he can be at Juliet. He wants to beat Ben, right now, while he has no defense. He's going to be a dad.

He's going to be a dad.

"Jack," her voice is soft, as is the comforting hand on his shoulder. He looks up to her face and though her eyes are tired, there's still brightness behind them. But she looks worried for him, "Are you okay?"

Swallowing hard, he nods his head until he's sure he can speak without his voice cracking, "Yeah," it does anyway, "yeah I'm fine. Are you okay, how are you doing?"

Kate smiles, partly from confusion, partly from fascination. Her eyes drift sideways like there's part of the conversation she's missing, "I'm fine."

"Really?" his voice has a little more force behind it then he intends but he feels he suddenly has the right to know everything that's happening with her. He needs to know now because he has a new reason to obsess over her protection.

"Yeah," she nods, still smiling, "I mean it's harder for me to do things now that I can't fully bend over, that's why I was gone so long."

"But you're all right?" he asks again, making sure he's got the truth from her.

Kate laughs this time, "Jack, I'm fine."

Believing her, he lets out a breath of air and relaxes a little, "You know if anything doesn't feel right, you have to tell me Kate. The simplest thing out of—"

"I know Jack," she glances at him and a shadow of a smile dances across her face.

He reaches over and grabs her hand, holding it tightly in his, "The tiniest thing that doesn't feel right Kate and you tell me."

Her smile turns rueful as she places her other hand onto her stomach, then looks to Jack and squeezes her hand within his, "I will."

* * *

_Next Chapter - I PROMISE it will tell where Jack and Kate go. There will also be a major threat (like pee-pants level of threat) and some sentimentality (It's a great word)._

And of course I expect all avid Jack/Kate fans to send me reviews telling me what a wonderful job I did incorperating the baby's paternity. 


	4. Questions

_A/N: A few things in this note.  
First thank you to everyone who reviewed. I always appreciate it, and love to hear favorite parts and reactions. I'm glad i rock some of your socks, and scare you with my wileyness. Please keep reading, and I promise I'll keep writing.  
Second I don't really know how Juliet does the whole fertility thing with the pregnant sister and such, but I'm guessing that such this island is such a wonderful place, she could perfect it, and since no man was there for her sister, I'm sticking with the blood sample pregnancy theory.  
Third, this will probably be the last chapter for like three days, since I have a commute to do, but I'll try ASAP to get up the next chapter. You have my word. _

Left Behind

Chapter 4

Questions

Jack closes his eyes and focuses all his senses onto his hand holding Kate's. Outside the wind has faded from the hurricane gale threatening the beach earlier that morning and is now caressing the blue tarp hanging in place of a door. He doesn't look over to Kate, but he's pretty sure she's doing the same thing, enjoying the single moment of peace they're both sharing, forgetting about what's waiting for them.

His mouth turns dry and he knows he's going to ruin it. He knows that he's going to go with Locke. Kate will come with him, and he has a lingering feeling that the decision won't bode well for either of them. "Claire's really sick," his voice is as soft as the wind dancing over their skin.

Jack turns to her just in time to see her eyebrows furrow with worry. "What do you mean?" her voice is laced with trepidation, when Claire's wellbeing should be at the bottom of the list.

He holds her hand a little tighter and wonders if she notices, wonders if she does notice, does she care, "Locke came to see if I was still here, to get me to come with him to help Claire."

"You're going too, right?" her voice is so nervous for something that doesn't even concern her. When he doesn't answer and fails to meet her eyes, she pulls her hand from his grasp. "Jack?"

"I don't want to leave you alone here," he almost whispers the words, maybe because he doesn't want Locke or Ben to hear, maybe because he doesn't want Kate to hear.

Kate shakes her head, both her cool hands slip around one of his, the action forces him to look straight into her wide eyes, "I can take care of myself Jack," the words are level, and her face unflinching. He can tell she's telling the truth, but it's also the truth that only she believes.

"Kate, if something happens," his body goes numb at the number of thoughts that clog his brain, "if something attacks you, or you get sick, or something happens with the baby," he has to focus on the ten fingers wrapping around his hand to keep his composure. He knows his eyes are glassy when she stares into them now, "I would be too far away to help you."

"Jack," she moves closer and something inside of him sparks, if only for a moment, "You can't let Claire die because of me."

"Well," he takes a deep inhalation in preparation for what he has to say next, "I'm not leaving this beach without you."

She sighs, her shoulders droop and her back curves slightly in posture, "Then I guess I'm coming with you."

Biting his lip, he gives her a quick shake of his head, "The hike is pretty far Kate and Sawyer--"

"We have to help Claire. Jack, she has a son," her eyes dull as she realizes the compromises she's going to have to make and her hand absentmindedly slips back to her stomach, "maybe there's something over there that can help me."

"Locke said there was," the bitterness he feels doesn't go unnoticed.

"You don't think he's telling the truth?"

"I don't trust him," his answer is blunt.

Kate nods and looks down to their fingers entwining together, "I trust you Jack."

* * *

His feet sink into the still damp sand as he crosses the beach to where Locke is standing looking out at the monochrome horizon. Ben glues his eyes to the doctor as he approaches, watching his every step from several yards away.

Locke has a look of bliss, the calm smile and closing eyes draws up a wary feeling within Jack. "Did you two talk about it?" Locke only sends a sideways glance to Jack to reaffirm that he's there.

"Yeah," Jack's voice is hoarse and he knows that Locke is aware that he doesn't want to leave; he also knows that it generates some sort of power within the older man, "she needs a few seconds to gather anything she needs."

Locke nods, the smile growing slightly, "it'll be about half a day or so worth of walking," he turns to Jack, the same peaceful expression, "is she okay for it?"

"Kate's fine," Jack's voice is sharp as he looks back to see her emerge from her tent.

"She looks healthy," Locke turns to watch as she walks towards them carrying a backpack. Her stride isn't as long as it used to be, and the waddle from this morning returns in full force. "You've been taking good care of her, Jack."

"Yeah," Jack doesn't pay any attention to the comment or its fallacies. For the first three months of her pregnancy he didn't even know she was pregnant. He was too preoccupied with getting everyone off the island. Until a few weeks ago, neither he nor Kate had been on good terms with each other, both angry with one another for separate reasons.

But now, he smiles completely ignoring Locke and steps forward taking the bag from her and helps her put on the one he originally intends for her, it's lighter and the buckle can clasp underneath her stomach.

Kate smiles and blushes as she utters a thank you, but he can tell she's nervous. The way her eyes keep darting from him to Locke, who is untying Ben, back to him as if to ask if it's really okay to follow. He can't tell her it's not, because the truth is, it's not safe to do anything anymore.

They walk the first three hours in complete silence. The distrust they feel towards Locke and Ben is evident, so instead they dedicate their attention to their steps. Every few steps Jack glances over at Kate, wonders if she's hungry or tired, or scared. A few times she gives him that pensive smile that he hates; she only wears it when she's doing something for him but has reservations about it.

Jack's mind begins to think of other things, like what the exact percentage is that he and Kate will leave this island unharmed within the next two months. If they make it back to the real world, will she go to jail right away? What about the baby? He stops to think about how Ben's probably false words have somehow become the truth for him. Why is he so eager to believe them?

Locke's voice rocks him out of his musings and back to the hike. They're on level terrain now, but the ground is still soggy from all the rain so everyone plans steps carefully, "So Kate," Locke looks over his shoulder at her, his eyes focusing on the bump that throws her balance, "How far along are you?"

Jack stares at her, expecting her to glance his way for some sign to respond with the truth or a lie. He expects her to look to him for support, but she doesn't. "I don't know," her answer is quick, but the strength in her voice causes doubtfulness to the chance she may be lying.

"Really?" Locke sounds surprised and his eyebrows furrow in confusion, "didn't Juliet take you down to The Staff for an ultrasound?"

Kate glances at Jack now, her lips tightly pursing together, like she knows just how much it hurts him to talk about this, "Juliet didn't get a chance too."

Quickly Locke glances to the ground for a second and misses Ben's slight grin. After a few seconds of silence to compose himself, he brings his head up again, "isn't there other ways to tell? Can't you—"

Jack opens his mouth to stop the sudden barrage of personal questions, but before he can, Kate stops walking. His heart leaps and he turns to her, not noticing that Locke and Ben are stopping as well, but she sends him a glance and he knows she's in no danger.

"Is something wrong?" Locke questions, irked by the unscheduled stop.

"No more questions," Kate's words are blunt, and her eyes unwavering from the older man. He moves to speak but she interrupts him again, "No more questions about my baby."

Locke presses his lips together in annoyance, but nods his head. "Okay," he agrees as he turns around and continues walking.

Jack can't help the grin that grows on his face. Sometimes he forgets that Kate can take care of herself. When she finally glances over to him, she's wearing the same grin he thinks he is and he thinks he loves her more than ever.

After the small fallout no one utters a word until they make camp for that night in a clearing four hours from the barracks. Jack takes his pack off, and watches as Locke exchanges angry words with Ben as he ties him to another tree, and then moves off into the jungle to find proper wood for a fire.

Kate drags her feet behind him and tosses her bag to the ground. He knows it's been a long day for all of them, if he's exhausted, he can't even imagine how she feels. She places her hands on the log his bag is resting on, and then falls into sitting position on it. He shoots out an arm to help her, "easy there," he chuckles, his hand supporting her body so she can sit straight.

"Sorry," she sighs and shakes her head, "I'm not used to so much weight in one place."

"Yeah," he smiles and his eyes are drawn to her stomach once again, how the bump is so small, but still stretches her top and throws her balance. He's caught up in the moment, Kate sitting a few inches away carrying his baby that he talks before he thinks, "has it kicked yet?"

A month ago it would have been an unwelcome question, exactly like the ones Locke was asking earlier, but now Jack knows things he didn't, things he keeps forgetting Kate doesn't know.

She cautiously raises an eyebrow at his question, the kind of question he never asks her even though a doctor is supposed to. He cared for her through the last month, just not in the general since. Instead of asking if she was hungry, he always made sure there was a large supply of fruit available and when he woke in the morning to find all the fruit gone, he smiled.

Before he can apologize she speaks, "I haven't felt it kick yet," she grins and glances down, placing a hand on the bottom of her stomach. When she turns back to him, her eyes are full of pure joy, like this baby is the only thing in the world she's proud of, "I feel it flutter sometimes, but you can't feel it from the outside yet."

Jack nods and smiles. Her mirth at the situation has his heart almost exploding with positive emotions. He wants to tell her everything now. That she doesn't need to fear Sawyer, because Sawyer had absolutely nothing to do with this. It was them, and the abstract bond they always seem to share that the Others' made concrete. He thinks that this moment is the least he's ever hated the Others.

But he won't tell her now. The shock of finding out this, along with a high-risk pregnancy could lead to a horrible situation. He'll tell her once they're at the barracks. When they can relax, if only for a second.

Instead he digs through the contents of his bag, finding the satellite phone buried deep at the bottom. Right now while Locke is away would be the perfect time to check the frequency and see if he can get in touch with the freighter.

Beside him Kate raises, her face scrunches into one of discomfort. He abandons the bag and stands beside her, "what's wrong?"

She groans and then laughs, "I have to go," she gestures out to the trees, opposite of the way Locke went.

It takes him a few seconds and her eyes widening for him to catch on, "oh." He laughs with her, "didn't you just go?"

"Jack, I'm pregnant," she reminds in a playful tone, and shuffles off into the jungle.

He's offered to go with her before, stand a few feet away in case anything comes to get her, but she's never been over appreciative of that fact. Divided, Jack glances to the trees, and then to the phone visible in his pack. With a quick movement, he zips up that compartment, and heads into the trees to follow Kate.

* * *

_Next Chapter: A dastardly deed is done donning a drastic decision. Also my alliteration skills are to be matched by none. Also some major developments on the Jack/Kate front._


	5. Safety

_A/N: I managed to get up one more chapter before I left. Expect the next one in about three to four days (A week at the most).  
Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Someone always manages to pick my favorite line as theirs, that's always fun. I hope that this chapter fills the quota for the need of Jack/Kate physical interactions, and I leave you with the promise that it will only get better from here on out (for awhile). _

Left Behind

Chapter 5

Safety

The night approaches fast, and soon the only light through the moonless night is the campfire situated between Jack, Kate and Locke. Away in the darkness Ben is still tied to a tree. At least she can take comfort in that fact.

Her eyes scan the darkness, looking for any sign of danger. For some odd reason she expects Ben to come running at her any second, but the only thing disrupting her concentration are the crackling embers that rise from the fire.

The night has grown colder, warranting her use of Jack's sweater. She smiles when she pulls it on, and thinks from the corner of her eye she sees him smile too. He's been off lately, way more protective of her than before, way more interested in the baby than before; she thinks Locke and Ben had something to do with it.

When Jack first found out that she was pregnant, he was furious. She still remembers how red his face was and the way his eyes narrowed into slits. She wondered how she could do this with the words, "I'm pregnant." Afterwards they were the only two inhabitants of the beach, and avoided each other like the plague.

Kate won't admit it, but she's scared. Two months left of life stuck on an island with countless dangers. It's not exactly the fairytale ending Sam always promised her when she was little.

The day's hike begins to work over her body as her eyes start to droop with fatigue. Her head turns to look directly across from her and she notices that Locke is already asleep; turning her head to look beside her she finds that Jack is not. He probably won't go to sleep. He'll stay up all night guarding her, or fiddling with the phone that he doesn't know she knows he brought.

She stretches out her arms while she yawns and if it's possible she hears Jack smile from sitting on a log beside her. Kate is sitting on the ground before the log, so when she leans over, her head rests perfectly against his knees, her arms folding against his thighs. A content sigh escapes her and she decides that she doesn't care if Jack feels awkward.

A few seconds later she feels the tips of his fingers pull through her hair, and she knows he doesn't care. Even when she's comfortable, Jack always finds a way to make her forget everything. Like how she's stuck on an island, or how there's a counter of a little less than two months on her life, or how she's pregnant with a Conman's baby.

The last thought makes her frown against Jack's leg. She wishes she could go back in time, wishes she could do things differently, or not at all. But she knows she can't, everything is set in stone, so she can only try her best from here out. And that's how three months ago she decided that she loved this baby.

Sawyer was never really in any of her dreams of a family. It was always her and the baby, he was an absent force. When she and Jack were left at the beach after the freighter didn't return the calls, they both boiled over with emotions.

The fact that he found out about her pregnancy in the same day was a bit of an overload, and they were both left irate with each other. Jack she supposed was fuming because she hadn't told him sooner or because he knew it was Sawyer's baby. She was angry because there was an unconscious thought in her mind that Jack would immediately step up and take the father roll, like she wanted him to.

It took a few weeks for them to cool off, everything fell back into a routine and Jack slowly started to care for her again. She felt horrible, the way he looked at her, watched her grow and her body change. She knew he was jealous, and if given the chance to choose the father for her baby she would have picked Jack.

Now they sit in the clearing, his fingers running through her hair lolling her into a much needed sleep, "You should go to sleep," his voice like a lullaby in her ear and she's so tired that the only response she can give him is inarticulate.

His legs shake as he laughs and soon he's helping her lie down, a backpack for a pillow and a blanket spread over her. The few seconds of consciousness she has left, she can feel his eyes watching her, and she knows the feeling they're admitting is something close to love. It sends her to sleep happy and warm.

"Kate," someone whispers to her, a hand on her shoulder shaking it lightly. Her eyes open a little, but only see black. She can smell the burnt wood and knows that the fire has been snuffed out.

The hand on her shoulder shakes again, and she moans a little from irritation, a little because her back hurts. She opens her eyes fully, and pushes her body up with her hands forgetting that her stomach protrudes and will only allow her to sit up at a certain angle.

"What?" she mumbles and her fist comes up to rub the exhaustion from her eyes, but it doesn't work. She sees a figure shadowed in darkness at her side and before she can ask another question she feels cold metal push against her skin.

The flush of fatigue from her body is almost immediate as she knows that this isn't Jack. A squeak escapes her mouth, but that only causes the gun to press harder into her neck, "No sudden moves, Kate," Ben's voice is a low hiss reminiscent of the cackling fire.

She says nothing else, but feels his hand grip hers to help her stand. Her body feels numb and her stomach starts to do flips from fear or misplaced morning sickness she isn't sure. His hand is cold, his fingers like ice around her hand as he pulls her into a standing position.

Kate can see Ben's darkened shadow, and from the way that their standing, the gun is aiming at her abdomen. Her fingers twitch involuntarily at her side before both her hands cover her stomach as a weak attempt at protection.

Ben grabs her by the bicep and pulls her close to him so she can hear his voice, "I don't want to hurt you Kate."

She wants to be brave; to comment that of he didn't want to hurt her, he probably should put the gun away, but the weapon erases every thought from her mind except the safety of her baby. Again she doesn't respond and Ben moves behind her pushing her in the direction of the jungle, "Keep walking straight until I tell you to stop."

The baby moves inside of her, like many bubbles popping at once. Her stomach is still queasy and her steps are uncharted and unfocused. She scrambles to think of an escape plan, she used to be so good at them, but her mind keeps drawing a blank.

Kate stops walking, causing Ben to jab the gun into her side. She expects him to utter some sort of threat, but before he can they both topple to the ground. Instinct kicks in and she turns all the weight from her fall landing on her hand and wrist. The pain is excruciating and works its way up her arm until she manages to roll over on her back, her left hand still covering her stomach.

The back of Jack's sweater begins to permeate with the early morning dew clinging to the grass. Her eyes are wide open but her brain is in shock at the moment, being flung from darkness to a different darkness confuses her. A few feet away she can hear the sounds of a brawl, punches landing and painful grunts.

Everything remains dark until a brilliant flash of light shears through the night and she sees Ben wildly run into the woods, Locke only a few yards behind him chasing him with gun in one hand, a flashlight in the other.

Jack scrambles over to her from where he landed on Ben in the grass, she can hear his erratic breaths, and feel the heat radiating off his body as he helps her into a sitting position, "Kate?" He asks her a question but her eyes are trying to focus on the random flashes of light that make it through the line of trees. Her hands become wet with dew as she places them in the grass for support, but when she leans to her right, her wrist buckles.

Jack's hand clamps on the side of her face and directs her attention into his eyes. She can see them in the dark, the shining white of them, the sheer terror flowing from them, "Kate, are you okay?"

She analyzes the question for a second, her eyes squint and suddenly she remembers everything, "Yeah," her voice is more of a shocked gasp and she nods her head in case Jack didn't hear.

"The baby?" he asks the question and his hand falls to her stomach, almost taking up the entire expanse of the growing bump.

The baby flutters again, and she smiles large and relieved. Her left hand moves down to rest beside Jack's and she laughs because something just feels right, "it's fine Jack."

"Are you sure?" his voice is full of concern as he moves closer to her. His words make her think of Sawyer's answer when she told him she wasn't pregnant.

Without thinking, she grabs his other hand and places it on her stomach as well, "it's moving right now, like a butterfly."

After a few seconds Jack chuckles and she can almost feel the worry leave him as they sit in the middle of the clearing. In the darkness her eyes meet his and she can see so much emotion for her, and a baby that isn't even his and she wants to kiss him.

He can feel her tighten up at the thought of actually doing what they're both afraid to do, because his thumbs start to rub reassuring circles against her stomach and she knows she's going to kiss him.

From the jungle, two shots ring out and instinctively Jack pulls her closer to him to shield her from any wayward bullets. His shoulder is comfortable and his arms strong enough to hold her straight as she starts to topple over from the quick movement. After a few seconds he pulls away from her his hands dropping to her hips, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," She nods and shuffles back against him, placing her head back on his shoulder and closing her eyes. His arms wrap back around her and she feels safe once again, "I'm fine."

* * *

_Next Chapter: Back to the Barracks. With some familiar faces and a whole lot of swearing and surprises. Fun for all. _


	6. Stains

_A/N: First let me tell you I'm very sick. This goes before the thank yous because it's an excuse for the poor grammer and possible word confusion. But I promised 4 days, and 4 days hath passed. So take pity on me, and ignore the minor mistakes that I can't find right now but surely will kick myself in the ass for when I do. And for anyone interested, Shiggity has Laryngitis, but her voice was never really appreciated so it doesn't matter. If you want the effect of my voice, read this author's notes as nails on a chalk board. I'm not complaining, I think it's cool.  
Secondly, thank you to everyone who reviewed. I can see the story can hold it's own (by the numerous reviews and 1400 hits (yay!) I love to hear favorite parts and what you enjoyed, etc. But I also love to hear theories. I'm glad it grabs eyeballs, and brings out the extreme Jack/Kate 'shipper in everyone. And the word Skaby, reminds me of the disease scabies, which I'm sure I have right now.  
Lastly, enjoy and I will try to have the next chapter up ASAP, give me another 4 days._

Left Behind 

Chapter 6

Stains 

"How's the wrist?" he sneaks a look over and sees her face flushing from the constant walking. They've been walking for the last three hours, because it wasn't safe to be back where they made camp and not because of Ben.

The tightly bandaged wrist is dangling at her side as she continues to tread through the jungle beside him, "it's fine Jack," she reassures him, for the fourth time in the last hour. He started counting how many times he was asking because he knew she was.

Jack stops walking and when she moves passed him he reaches out and gently touches her forearm, "Hey," the words are quiet since Locke could be anywhere from miles ahead of them to only a few feet in front of them, "If you're tired, we need to stop."

Kate shakes her head, but the action is lazy. He can see the sweat glistening on her pale skin, the way her eyes are empty and red, "We'll be at the Barracks within the hour."

"We can rest," he tells her, moving up his other hand to cradle her elbow.

"Jack," she sighs and rolls her green eyes at him.

He almost laughs; he knows she's stubborn and that she's only doing this to prove to herself that she could, because she did four months ago. "Fine," he concedes, but wears a smile so she knows his feelings aren't damaged, "But as soon as we get there, you're on bed rest."

"Bed rest?" she arches an eyebrow at him, "What are you my—"

"Yeah, I'm your doctor," he answers as he unbuckles the pack from around her back, "I can take this, just concentrate on walking."

Her smile is sly as she pulls the straps from around her arms, "Your bedside manner is horrible."

Now he laughs, "Always has been."

"Yeah," her hand lands on his bare bicep as she passes the bag to him, cool fingers against his hot skin, "you're just lucky you're a good surgeon."

Jack pulls the strap of her backpack up his shoulder and notices that her hand hasn't left his arm. He wants to stare elsewhere, but his eyes catch hers and suddenly he feels like he can't move, even if he wants to. Kate's smile grows as she closes the space between them, fingers grasping at his bicep. She genuinely looks happy, and he mimics her smile praying that he's the cause of it.

Her pink lips press together and part as he rests his hands on her hips again, the movement is erratic and cautious, like at any moment she's going to recoil, but she doesn't, she advances. He realizes that can't take it anymore, the secret he's been keeping, and if they are going to do this, he wants the slates to be blank, "Kate, I have to tell you something."

She grins again and snakes an arm around his neck. She's so close now he can feel the heat radiating off of her, he can see each individual freckle on her face, count each of her eyelashes, "can't it wait?" her voice is playful, almost childish.

His grin grows at her tone and it's all clear to him now, "you know that this is the hormones, right?"

"Hormones might play a little part in it," she replies, her nose almost touching his. He remembers when they were caught in the net together, how right it felt to be that close with her.

"Well," he laughs, but her breath on his face is throwing him off, "what I have to tell you is pretty important."

"So tell me," she doesn't move an inch, just challenges him to change the subject.

It's fine with him, because he's always been stubborn too, "It has to do with—"

"Jack," Locke's voice booms out from ahead somewhere, "Jack is everything okay?"

Kate moves away from him, leaving his arms empty and cold. Her skin is still flushed, though he knows now it's for a different reason and he still can't take his eyes off of her, "Fine John," he calls out into the jungle still staring at her, watching how she licks her darkening lips.

A few seconds later, Locke moves through the trees before them, his shirt still a vibrant white, but the mahogany color of drying blood stains his chest. He juts a thumb behind him at the jungle, "Barracks are about fifteen minutes this way." He says it like it's a common knowledge, but there's a strand of impatience imbedded within his voice.

"I needed to rest for a bit," Kate answers his unasked question and lays a hand on her stomach for emphasis. The once white shirt she is wearing is now tarnished with sweat and dirt. Jack wonders if they have clothes at the barracks that will fit her.

As Jack and Kate begin to follow Locke, between secret coquettish grins they pass to each other he remembers when she first started to grow out of her clothing. The first day a shirt wouldn't fit and the string of curse words he thought she'd never even heard of before that floated from her mouth mixing with the waves and the ocean air. A little while later she had a bit of a breakdown and Jack had lent her one of his shirts, just so she wouldn't see the almost nonexistent bump that was making her fat.

Aloud she called herself fat and sighed with her hands on her hips staring at the wrinkling material around her abdomen. From a few feet away, concealed behind tarp blowing wildly in the wind, Jack called her beautiful in his head.

"Look," Kate pulls on his right wrist with her left hand, and points ahead, drawing him out of his reverie.

Jack looks up, and sure enough, the familiar yellow houses reflect even the dimmest light in the growing morning. The Barracks are familiar to him, to everyone he supposes. They've all spent time living here, but now it seems different. It seems hollow and empty, like life or living beings never inhabited it at all. The Barracks are like a ghost town.

The wind seems to turn colder as they approach the village passing the empty swing set that screams loudly on the outskirts. Kate sends him an alarming glance and he slows his walk down so that his pace is equal with hers.

They pass a dozen empty houses, window shutters rattle in the wind and screen doors slam. The trees are almost leafless and the grass is dying, leaving the blades tinged brown. Jack's about to ask where Claire and Aaron are, when something interrupts him.

"Locke," an unclear voice calls out. Jack's eyebrows furrow as he follows the older man until the source of the voice is found in an alleyway between housing units, "Locke come in? Dude, why take the freaking walkie-talkie if you're not going to turn it on? "

Jack smiles as a rush of nostalgia overtakes him, it's good to see Hurley again, even if it's only his back, "'Hugo,'" Hurley mocks turning slightly, his upper lip curling with the ridicule, "'Give me a walkie-talkie and update me every four hours on Claire. By the way I will never turn mine on.'"

"Hugo," Locke calls and crosses his arms over his bloody chest as he waits for the bigger man to turn around.

Hurley's voice stops in midsentence of another mockery and he turns fully, with an expression of guilt, "Sorry man I—" he pauses and stares at Jack and then at Kate, "Dude, you guys are still here." The cadence of his voice portrays his excitement as he barrels towards the couple.

He hugs Jack tightly almost lifting him off the ground, causing the doctor to break out into laughter. He doesn't think anyone's ever been so happy to see him. Then he remembers Kate's face when he returned after leaving her for almost two weeks.

Hurley turns to Kate to hug her, but stops short, "Holy crap," he almost screams and takes a step back. Pointing to her stomach he cries, "you're pregnant."

Kate giggles, her hand resting on her protruding midsection, "yeah, I am."

Quickly turning back to Jack, Hurley raises his hand for a high-five, "Way to go, Dude."

In an instant, both Jack and Kate's faces fall. She still doesn't know about the true paternity of the baby, and well Jack really didn't do anything that deserves a high-five. After a few seconds Hurley's smile disintegrates too, "oh," his voice is smaller than before, "awkward."

"Hugo," Locke breaks the silence, "Why don't you take Jack to go see Claire."

"Oh yeah," Hurley nods, his expression turning to one of concern, "Man, she really needs a doctor."

Jack turns to Kate who nods in agreement, "I think I'm going to lie down."

"You can take any of the houses, only four are occupied right now," Locke informs as he pulls at his shirt, "I'm going to go get cleaned up."

Locke leaves and Kate turns to leave as well, but Jack catches her hand first, "I'll come find you when I'm done."

Kate smiles and tucks a stray curl behind her ear, "okay."

He watches as she waddles away, wondering which house she'll pick and why. Wondering if they'll share a house together, if eventually they'll share a bed together, if in five months they'll share a baby together.

"Dude, what is going on with you guys?" Hurley asks, he's a few feet behind Jack and already beginning to walk to Claire's house.

Jack sighs, too much information to blurt out at once, "it's complicated."

"You guys have always been complicated," Hurley reminds as he leads Jack down the alley and towards the house furthest near the perimeter.

It's true, there always has been some mystical force that drove their innate connection with each other apart, "Well I was with Juliet and she was with Sawyer and—"

"Dude," Hurley stops walking and turns to Jack with wide eyes, "are you telling me that the baby is—"

"Well, well, well," Sawyer walks out the front door of an adjacent house, a cigarette held between his lips and a mug of coffee in his hand, "if it ain't the good Doc."

* * *

_AHHH It's Sawyer. Sorry I had to.  
Next Chapter- Will we discover what happened to Ben? And why Jack, Kate and Locke had to leave their quaint little campsite early? Will Jack finally tell Kate the secret (and no the one you practice like a religion)? Probably not but I'll work it in eventually. However we will see Claire and Sawyer and Hurley. And the cutest Jack/Kate moment yet I think._

Oh and for fun, is the baby a boy or a girl? I'm asking you! 


	7. Clear

_A/N: Still sick, can't go to classes, computer games make my head hurt, so a new chapter for all. Same sickness rule applies. You all have to forget immediately about all the spelling errors you find because I'm so sick.  
Thank you for the reviews, and to be honest I haven't really decided what gender the baby is yet (I'm leaning towards one though).  
Oh and I said Claire, Hurley and Sawyer would be in this chapter and I lied through my teeth which feel like jelly. So before you get angry, read the chapter which will extinguish said anger and write me a nice review because it was better than Hurley, Claire and Sawyer are together. What a weird triangle...Clawley?  
_  
Left Behind 

Chapter 7

Clear 

Kate gasps, her heart sounds like a marching band within her chest as her breaths come out in deep heaves. Her dreams, or where she was before now, she doesn't remember, she just knows that it was something worth running from. The room she's in now is dark, the bed she's lying on is lumpy, and the sheets feel like they're strangling her. Her hands push into the mattress and the springs squeal with age as she pushes herself up into a sitting position. In her post sleeping state she forgets about her stomach and ends up using her elbows to prop her up all the way.

She glances down at her stomach in the darkness of night, outside the clouds have cleared and a full moon hangs low above the canopy of jungle trees no to far off in the distance. The pale blue light falls from the window across the bed and the sheets now scrunched at her feet. Her stomach seems bigger than before when she left the beach, big enough to warrant the changing of her shirt earlier before she took a nap.

The white dress shirt does nothing to hide her stomach, the middle buttons are already struggling to meet, but it's too late for hiding. The pants she was wearing when the plane crashed won't move up further than her hips, warranting the longer shirts.

She throws her legs over the queen size mattress and feels the cold hardwood floor beneath. There are no clocks present in the room or the house at all, but she knows that it's early morning from the position of the moon. Her feet feel around for her hiking shoes, but only manage to kick them further underneath he frame of the bed.

With a sigh she rises from the bed and sends an irritated glance at the shoes pushed back against the plaster wall painted a docile light pink. She bends over at the waist to retrieve them, only to find that she is hindered before she can even reach pass the bed frame. Resorting to bending at her knees, after a few minutes she manages to grasp the shoes by two pairs of stray laces, laces she won't be able to do up if the overnight growth of her stomach continues.

She sits back on the bed, and holds out her leg at an awkward angle as she pulls on one shoe, then the next and does the laces up as best as she can. Jack said that he would come to find her and there's no sign of him in this house, so she's going to find him.

The clear air hits her as soon as she leaves the house; the window in the bedroom wasn't open so she's surprised when the chilly air brushes against her face. They're going to get a storm soon. The trees ominously sway as the wind abuses them, the rustling leaves sounding reminiscent of the waves crashing into shore.

She stops on the communal dirt road that connects all houses together, like the main artery of the village. Kate's eyes strain against the powdered darkness, trying to figure which house out of dozens Jack chose. The answer to her question is immediate as light flicks on, then extinguishes from one of the rooms of the house across the street. She smiles because Jack stayed so close.

The dirt clods crunch underneath her weight, and again she thinks she's big, bigger than she needs to be at close to seventeen weeks into her pregnancy. The baby flutters and suddenly she remembers her dream. The sweet dream that turned sour at the drop of a pin and like a programmed reflex her hand comes to her stomach, knowing that it was only a dream but lingering proof from Claire's pregnancy days remains in her mind.

She's at the front of the house, the weak wooden door painted white to strengthen and illuminate it in the darkness, is staring back at her, daring her to enter. Without a second thought she grabs the knob and turns, not bothering to knock because she knows Jack is asleep. The door opens without a noise revealing a combined living room and kitchen, the same in the house she picked. A hallway is hidden behind a half wall and she follows it to a bedroom.

Jack's room is darker than Kate's was, the direction of the window facing the jungle rather than the vast expanse of clearing where the moon could rule with ease, but she can still see him. His shoes abandoned beside the bed along with the dirt covered shirt he was wearing when they arrived.

Kate crosses the threshold, her feet hit a tender spot and the hardwood lets out a moan. She bites her lip for a moment and when he doesn't move she whispers, "Jack?"

He groggily groans, but sits up when he realizes it's her, "Kate?" his voice is weak from sleep and his fists are rubbing at his eyes, a beat passes and suddenly he's wide awake, "is everything okay?" he scrambles across the bed clad in only jeans.

"I'm fine Jack," she reassures and approaches him to take a seat on the bed. She waits for him to get situated beside her, "you never came to get me."

"I did," he tells her, his hand finding her right wrist. He rolls up her sleeve and beings to examine it for the sixth time that day, making sure that the wrist isn't engorged or the swelling hasn't increased. He glances up at her, his eyes warm with concern, "you were asleep. I didn't want to wake you."

Kate nods, enjoying the pads of Jack's fingers moving over her skin, "I'm glad you stayed close."

He stops prodding her wrist, his face serious, "I'm not leaving you Kate," his hand slides into hers and her heart swells, "never."

She wants to kiss him, close the few inches between them, fall asleep with him in this unknown bed in this strange house to feel more comfortable, but something holds her back. That same thing is moving inside of her like popcorn kernels over an oven element. She knows it's unfair to let Jack clean up all of her bad decisions. She knows that it's foolish to trust Jack unceasingly, but she does it anyway.

"How's Claire?" are the only words she can form. She can't deal with the topic of romance right now, not when there's so much around to remind her how much she doesn't deserve it. She doesn't ask about Sawyer because she doesn't care.

Jack's face falls and his hand releases hers, "I can't help her," his voice is honest and full of shame as he stares at the floor. Her mouth hangs open a bit and as if he can sense her need for a full explanation he elaborates, "She's depressed Kate. I can't help her because I'm not a therapist. I can heal the body, not the mind."

"Why is she so depressed?" Kate finds herself moving closer to Jack, wanting to console his inability to aid.

Jack stiffly shakes his head, "We don't need to talk about that right now."

Her eyebrows furrow, "Why? What—"

"Kate," he shakes his head again, his jaw set but his eyes pleading, "please."

"Okay," she nods, her hands find his again and she never wants to release them. He glances at his hands, then back to her eyes. The silence is making her tense and before she can start on the topic of her new shirt and how she loves that it covers her entire midsection Jack moves in crashing his lips against hers.

The action stuns her for a moment, clearing her mind of every thought, before all of them rush back to her in one big wave. Before the guilt can kick in, before she thinks of a list of reasons she shouldn't be doing this, she reacts.

Kate moves closer, pulling her legs up on the bed and curling them underneath her as she opens her mouth and deepens the kiss. Jack slides one hand from her cheek down to cup the side of her neck as his other hand runs from her thigh to her hip.

She quickly realizes that Jack's already half naked, and as she's moving back to lie on the bed, her hands run over his chest from his shoulders to the belt on his jeans. She can feel both their bodies start to react, the pressure and expectancy the hormones are building up inside of her are gaining control of her brain and her only thought is to get closer to Jack.

He breaks the kiss. Both of them stare at each other, panting with wild eyes, "Kate," her name comes out like a puff of air, "I—"

Both her hands clamp down on his biceps, "I know," she exhales before leaning up to meet his lips. They're soft, not chapped like her own. He's resistant at first, but then deepens the kiss. The next time he breaks away from her lips is to trail kisses down her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, and soon he's fumbling with the buttons on her shirt.

"Hey," he pulls away from her, his eyes squinting as he inspects something.

She pushes herself back up on her elbows, still trying to regain her breath, "what?"

"This is my shirt," he tells her as he tugs on the bottom of the material.

Her eyebrows crease, "what?"

"I was wearing this when we crashed, someone cleaned it up," he muses aloud.

"Oh," she sighs and looks at her stomach fighting against the buttons, "you can have it back, if you want."

Jack shakes his head and smiles, "no, it looks better on you."

Kate grins back, and wraps an arm around Jack's neck to pull him back to her. Their lips meet again as he blindly battles with the buttons. She giggles, from Jack's tickling fingers, or the failure of his dexterous surgeon's hands to undo a button, or just because she's kissing him. She's not sure, it could be all three.

He turns his attention to her neck, starting to kiss the skin a little harder than before. The sensation of his lips against her skin makes her moan and she notices that he's halfway done the buttons. His hand lands against her stomach for a moment as he adjusts himself over her and a large kick from within makes them both jump apart.

"What the hell was that?" her hand moves to her stomach in case it happens again. That wasn't fluttering or bubbles popping, that was something from a soccer game.

Jack chuckles, his eyes lighting up as he moves back towards her, his hand pressing against her bare stomach, "that was the baby's first kick."

"Is it angry?" she asks staring at both of their hands against her pale skin, waiting for another movement.

He smiles and shakes his head, "it's normal, you're blood was probably pumping faster which gave the baby a little boost."

"That was a pretty big –"another punt comes from her stomach and this time they both laugh.

* * *

_I told you it was the cutest moment ever.  
Next Chapter- Jack does some research and Kate interacts with the new others I'm not saying which ones. _


	8. Awkward

_A/N: Sorry guys, I had to write a three scene play about a polar bear turned gangster (please don't ask). Thank you everyone who reviewed and everyone who enjoyed the last chapter. I think this chapter will be a big hit, I just got that feeling. Anyway, I've decided on the gender of the baby. It's...a secret. For now. But will be revealed eventually. But eventually isn't now.  
Enjoy the chapter, and I'll try to have the next one up soon. _

Left Behind

Chapter 8

Awkward

The sun streams sideways through the open window, splattering across the squeaky hardwood floor and the bottom of the bed where most of the white sheets are gathered. A light gust of wind dances with the curtains and caresses her cheeks, rousing her from a deep sleep.

Kate blinks several times before she recognizes the bed as the same one she fell asleep in last night. Asleep beside Jack, who isn't in the empty spot where the sheets are wrinkled. She stretches her hand out on impulse to smooth away the wrinkles and feels that the mattress is still warm. From down the hall she can hear a pan drop to the ground and for a second everything feels normal.

Her eyes are still half-lidded as she attempts to roll onto her back, but the weight she is still not used to pulls her back down. She presses her lips together in frustration, but lays a hand on her bare stomach that's pushing out between the open buttons on the dress shirt and smiles. The second time she tries she's more successful and manages to sit up.

The scattered clothes on the ground catch her attention; Jack's shoes along with hers are in a close group even though they were cast away without a second thought. Her cargo pants are on the ground near the bed and she wonders if they'll even fit her today. If she should even bother trying them on. Jack's dirty gray shirt is still on the ground, but the closet door is ajar meaning he looked for new clothes. Another pan drops from the kitchen and she wonders how she could have slept through all this.

The truth is she had a hard time getting to sleep, fear of nightmares mixed with the excitement of being close to Jack left her awake until sunrise. After the baby kicked last night things between them cooled off, she spent the night lying with Jack's arms wrapped around her and his hands placed next to hers on her stomach.

Jack's footsteps echo down the hallway and soon he's in the doorway with a bright smile for her, like she's the reason he got up that morning, "hey."

"Hey," she smiles back and pulls her knees to her chest the best she can so Jack can sit on the bed.

"Sorry I didn't wake you," the bed sinks a little as he sits on the edge. Her bare legs stretch across the seats until her toes touch the cool denim of the new jeans he's wearing. His hands come down to cover her toes, "your feet are freezing."

Kate shrugs and wiggles her toes, "it's bad circulation."

His smile widens and he leans over to place a hand to her stomach, calloused fingertips gently touching the smooth skin. She laughs a little because it tickles, Jack laughs because she's laughing, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," her hands push into the mattress and she shuffles to sit next to Jack.

She rests her head on his shoulder and closes his eyes until he speaks, "If you're hungry I got some food from Locke last night."

In an instant she opens her eyes, "did you get any milk?"

Jack chuckles, his shoulders shaking, "I asked Locke if he had any, but he didn't," before the disappointment sets in he adds, "but I got you an entire case of powdered milk."

Kate pulls away from him to look him in the eye in case he decided today would be the day he starts joking, "Really?"

"Yeah," he nods his head obviously amused by how happy she is, "I already made you a glass, it's in the fridge I—"

Before he can finish she moves forward and with a steadying hand on his bicep, she kisses him. Kisses him like she wants to, like he deserves to be kissed. She feels his hand skim down her side grazing her breast and tracing her ribs. Her hand moves to the side of his neck, feeling his sinewy muscles before she pulls away.

Jack smiles again, confused but not complaining, "What was that for?"

"Because I wanted to," she sends him a sly grin and reaches down for her pants, but her fingertips come short of contact.

Reaching down, he grabs the material and hands her the pants. As if he already knows the dilemma she's in for he informs, "There's more clothes in the closet. Jeans and belts in case they're too big."

He holds out his hand to help her stand and she takes it. He stares at her for a few seconds, as if he's contemplating something, but at the same time looks completely blissful. Jack's hand reaches for hers and his mouth opens, but he's interrupted by harsh knocking at the front door. He sighs and releases her, "I'll get that."

Kate nods and watches as he leaves the room. He seems more stressed today, like there's something bothering him, she glances down to her stomach, besides the obvious. As she moves to the closet, the cold pads of her feet hitting the hardwood, she can hear him exchange words with Locke. Maybe it's about Claire, maybe it's about Aaron.

She stops rooting through the clothing. Maybe it's about Sawyer.

The conversation grows in volume, and then quickly decreases as she finds a pair of jeans that might work. The front door slams a few seconds after she struggles to pull the material up her legs, thankfully it's just the friction of the denim against her skin and not the size of the jeans. With a belt they might even last her the rest of her pregnancy.

Kate stops her movements. When did it become normal to think that she would spend the rest of this pregnancy on the island? If she stays here she has at the most two months. Her eyes become cloudy as she stares at the protrusion now swimming in the new blue jeans. She doesn't want to die; she doesn't want the baby to die.

"Hey," Jack's voice is soft as he moves next to her, his arm comes around her shoulder and he pulls her against his chest. One of his hands is stroking her hair, wild from sleep, "what's wrong."

She only sobs against his chest, hot tears running down her cheeks and landing on his clean shirt. He pulls her away, his hands firmly gripping her shoulders, "Kate, what's wrong?"

"I don't want to die," she cries, one of her hands comes up to swipe at the tears that won't stop, "I don't want the baby to die."

Jack bites his lower lip, his eyebrows falling at her confession, "Kate, you're not going to die here."

"Yes I am," her answer comes out as a hiccup, "everyone else has, why not me?"

His hand moves to the side of her face, thumb wiping away her tears, but then he stops and holds her very still. He waits until she's staring at him, not making a noise, "I'm not going to let you die Kate," his voice is level and strong, "I promise you, you are not going to die on this island."

She shakes her head, "How can you—"

"I'm doing everything I can. Locke's taking me to where the medical records are. I'm going to spend all day there if I have to. Kate, I'm going to find a way to save you and to save this baby." When he stops speaking he kisses her softly and rests his forehead against hers and for a moment the only sound in the world is their breaths.

Then Locke bangs on the front door again and Jack pulls away from her a little to growl, "I have to go with him to check on Claire and dig through medical records. Will you be okay here?"

Kate sniffs once and nods, "yeah I'll be fine."

"I'll come check on you in a couple of hours," he reaches for a backpack abandoned on his side of the bed and stops before he leaves the room, "just try to take it easy, not a lot of moving or stress."

"Okay," she agrees and watches as he leaves the bedroom, shortly after the door slams.

The morning passes fast. She showers, and then drinks five and a half glasses of powdered milk. She cleans the few dishes that are in the sink and sits on the couch for forty-five minutes wondering what's wrong with Jack. Wondering when her baby is going to kick again. Is it a boy or a girl? Which would she be better with? Any question to get her mind off of flash forwarding two months from now.

There's a knock at the front door around what she thinks is noon, and even though her mind tells her to be cautious her curiosity gains the better of her. When she opens the door, Hurley stands with a smile on the other side, still glad to see her.

"I figured since Jack is still with Claire, I could keep you company," is the reason he offers as she moves out of the way to allow him entrance into the front room.

"Good," her reply is a little on the forceful side. The empty confines of the house were beginning to resemble jail an awful lot.

Hurley sits on the couch and she sits in an adjacent armchair. Silence gets the best of them for a few seconds before he speaks again, "so, like did everyone else from the beach leave?"

"Yeah, the helicopter came and took them away. It took a while with refueling but everyone else managed to go home," Kate arches her back against the armchair trying to get comfortable, glad she exchanged Jack's dress shirt for a dull red striped tank top, it was a little more acceptable but the horizontal stripes made her look bigger.

"So, uh," Hurley glances around the room, looking for something to distract him, "how's the pregnancy going?"

She laughs to comfort him, "it's not as bad as I thought it would be, but then again I'm only about four months along." He doesn't reply, doesn't seem to know how to whether it be from the ignorance to the subject, or the knowledge that they'll be digging a grave for her in two months.

"Do you want something to drink?" she pushes herself from the chair and gesticulates towards the kitchen, "we have a lot of powdered milk, but I think we have other stuff too."

Hurley chuckles, "water is fine, Dude."

Kate smiles and moves into the kitchen, trying to find which cupboard Jack got the glasses from. She feels badly for using this as an escape, but she needs a break from awkward conversations for a little while.

Over the running water from the faucet she hears the front door open. Kate smiles because Jack came to check on her, even though there's nothing in this house that can harm her. She sets Hurley's water on the counter and moves around the only full wall in the kitchen to the front room.

"Why in the hell are you spending time in empty houses Hugo? You gonna start dressing up mannequins next for our neighbors?"

"Umm," is all Hurley says as he backs away from the confused Conman.

The floor creeks underneath her and Sawyer's eyes dart up to meet hers. Instantaneously the irritated look drops from his face being replaced with awe, "son of a bitch," he whispers still staring at her. As his eyes move over her body they glue to her stomach, and this time his voice isn't as soft, "son of a bitch!"

* * *

_AHHH! It's Sawyer! Sorry I had to...Again.  
Next chapter - is the one you WON'T want to MISS. Seriously if you can only read one chapter of one fanfiction for the rest of your life, make it this one. _


	9. Nostalgia

_A/N: Quickest A/N EVER! Have class in five minutes. Wasted time by telling you that. And that and that and...  
I put this chapter up because I know a lot of you want to read this one, and you'll want to read the next chapter too. I'll have it up by Friday. If anyone asked a question I didn't answer I'll get to it next time.  
Oh, thank you for reviews and pimpage at the lost-forums (I LURK I DO!) _

Left Behind 

Chapter 9

Nostalgia 

"You're pregnant?" his eyes stare in confusion at her stomach. She wants to back into the kitchen, us the backdoor and run. Because she's not good at confrontations. Because she is good at running.

"Dude," Hurley takes a step forward to fill the few feet between herself and Sawyer, "Maybe now is not the best time for this."

"Stay outta this," Sawyer sidesteps Hurley, the glare now evident in his face, the anger in his eyes bordering on hatred. She can tell by his stance that he's furious, but she wonders what about? That she didn't tell him she was pregnant? That she was going to leave the island with his baby and let him live out the rest of his life blissfully unaware? Or that she was pregnant to begin with.

Sawyer stops within reach of her, and she remembers how tall he is. Remembers the night in the cage and the nights on the beach that led to the life inside of her. A small part of her wants it to work out between them, if only for the baby. She wants it to have a dad, a dad better than her own and in the very same train of thought she realizes Sawyer is not that person. She blames the nostalgia on hormones.

"You said you weren't pregnant," he tries to keep his composure. His voice is uneven as the rage battles with the calm cadence he's choosing to speak in. He treats her like she's a stray; if his voice gets too loud she'll run away.

Kate wants to shrug, but she knows it will infuriate Sawyer further. Maybe he feels betrayed by her, like she did by him when he left her. When he basically told her he didn't want to have a child with her. She manages to rile up courage, and in a small voice answers, "I was a month along. I didn't know."

"You were sure of it," his answer is immediate, like he's been replaying their last encounter as much as she has.

Glancing down to her stomach, to the dull red stripes stretched wider by her protrusion she suddenly feels brave again. This isn't her fault, it isn't Sawyer's either, but she's not going to feel ashamed over something that surprised them both. She pats her stomach once and turns her attention back to him with a smile, "I was obviously wrong."

"Kate, this ain't a joke," his voice is serious again, eyebrows falling as he glowers at her, "were you even going to tell me?"

She doesn't answer, doesn't know how to. If she was the first one on the helicopter, by now she would be in prison with her baby going into a foster home, being adopted by strangers. Sawyer would never know, the baby would never know of its criminal parents. "What was I supposed to do?" her voice turns hard and it surprises even her, "march across the island to tell you so you could get upset?"

"I'm not upset," he lies, his eyes flashing with his deceit.

"Yeah, you are," she shakes her head, "It wasn't exactly possible with morning sickness, fatigue, back aches and all the other great things that come with the fifteen extra pounds added to the front of me."

"You did it before," he doesn't look impressed. He doesn't seem understanding or even sympathetic to the situation he's placed her in, "you did it now."

"Yeah I did it now," she sighs and places a hand to her forehead. Now she remembers why she didn't want to see Sawyer again. "I did it because Jack said that he might be able to find a way to save us."

As soon as she mentions Jack's name, Sawyer's façade fades into what she believes is authentic. She can see his jaw set, teeth grinding against each other and his hands closing into fists at his side, "Well ain't that like the good Doc. Is that why you stayed with him? Because you think he can save you?"

Her eyes narrow into slits, "I stayed with him Sawyer, because he never left me." It's not exactly the whole truth. Jack did leave her for two weeks. Two weeks so they could deal with separate issues they were both harboring against each other. She never doubted he would come back, and on the day he did the first thing he asked was how she was feeling. He never left her.

Sawyer takes a step closer to her, but she remains unaffected, "as I recall Freckles, you were the one who went on the lam after our last encounter."

Kate feels her eyes sting with tears, not at his words, but at her realization. She manages to keep her bottom lip from trembling as she leans in and in a calm voice informs, "You left me way before that."

She pushes around Sawyer, ignoring Hurley who looks concerned for her, probably because Jack told him to be and almost has the front door closed behind her before Sawyer speaks again, "did good old Jacko tell you what happened to Claire? What happened to Aaron?"

"Sawyer, Man," Hurley steps between them again, his hands held towards Sawyer trying to keep him in the kitchen, "now is not the time."

"Really Hugo?" he questions, his expression has turned malicious and she wishes it wasn't so familiar, "you don't think she ought to know that by them coming here, heroic Jack's basically digging a grave for her?"

Kate doesn't hear anymore. She doesn't need to. Instead she slams the door, not waiting another second before stomping away up the dirt path. It only takes her a minute to recognize Jack's shoeprints embedded in the mud. They lead her to a house on the other side of the Barracks; it's smaller than the others and almost secluded.

Not bothering to knock, she opens the door and finds herself in an almost identical house. She wonders if all the buildings were made using the same cookie cutter technique. The front room is smaller and carpeted so her shoes don't make a noise as she travels down the familiar hallway. Nearing the bedroom on the opposite side, there's a break in the wood paneling allowing for a separate room with no door.

The room is small and almost empty. A closet with slated wooden doors left open revealing several covered boxes. A wooden window seat missing cushions and a paper cluttered desk built in to the wall are the only other things in the room.

Jack is hunched over at the desk, reading one of the many papers from several folders threatening to fall off the corner of the desk. Kate watches him, how focused his eyes are on the sheet, how they squint like he doesn't understand something. He sighs as he rereads the same sentence following it closely with his finger. After a few minutes of repetition he lets out a gruff moan and places a hand on his forehead.

Kate's heart almost breaks. He's working so hard for her, and he has no reason too. This baby is not his, and the way things have been between them in the past, she doesn't deserve his help. She doesn't deserve his love.

"Hey," she speaks softly as she walks into the room. Jack jerks back in the chair in surprise and she has to muffle her laughter with her hand, "sorry."

He chuckles a little and shakes his head, "no, it's okay. I've been so busy reading," he trails off with a deep exhalation.

She frowns and stands beside him, staring at all of the papers that look exactly identical. There are three of the boxes stacked on the other side of Jack, all filled with files and papers. She knows these are the medical records of every other on the island and all the pregnant women who died.

Jack's hunched over again and her hand falls to the back of his neck to comfort him. His muscles are hard and full of stress, his skin hot, almost feverishly so. When he turns and leans his head against her stomach, she lets him. Lets him love her and the baby that isn't his because it feels natural. Even though they haven't talked about the birth of the baby or raising the baby or what would happen if they get rescued she knows without a doubt he'll be part of the baby's life.

"Is everything okay?" she feels one of his hands cover almost the entire expanse of the bump. It's warm and reassuring. It makes her relax and let out a small sigh.

When she glances down to him, he's staring back at her, worry etched on his face like a tattered piece of clothing he wears too much, "Sawyer found me."

Jack turns away from her, his eyes on the desk again and she sees his worry turn to something else. Anxiety or fear? It makes her feel guilty, "Jack, you don't have to worry," her voice is unwavering and her hand finds his, "I'm right here."

"I know," he nods his voice empty because he's hiding his emotions. She knows he's hiding something bigger. She wants to plead with him to tell her, but something in her holds back. Maybe she knows he'll tell her with time. Maybe she knows that there's a good reason he's not telling her. "What did he say?"

Kate sighs and her eyes close for a second. She doesn't want to recall it, "He said a lot of things. Mostly without being angry."

"Was he angry?" Jack's expression is usurped by worry again.

The corner of her lips twitch into a rueful smile and she nods, "Oh yeah."

"He didn't hurt you did he?"

"No," she shakes her head and moves away from Jack to the window seat as her back starts to burn again.

Jack follows her, "Kate, really did he—"

"Jack," the morning's events abruptly catch up to her and she's feeling fatigue in every muscle for every move she's ever made. "Could we please not talk about it?"

He takes a seat next to her and guides her back to rest against his chest. His arms encircle her and they sit in the afternoon sun in silence. His chin is on her shoulder and his hands are protective on her stomach, like he won't let anything happen to this baby. She knows he won't let anything happen to this baby.

A few more minutes pass and a kick comes from inside, right where Jack's thumb is. She feels him smile against her neck, feels his thumb circle the area once hoping for another movement. "Have you been reading all morning?" her voice is weak and tired.

"Yeah," his voice is like a lullaby in her ear.

Kate places her hands on his and moves her head back so she's staring at him sideways, "please tell me good news." She tries to keep the plea from her voice, but it's overly evident.

He nods stiffly a few times, "yep, there's good news."

She feels a little more awake now as the spark of hope ignites within her once again, "like?"

She can sense his hesitation but doesn't know why. Finally Jack takes a deep breath in and his eyes fall to her stomach, "Like this baby isn't Sawyer's."

* * *

_Next Chaoter- I think you all know..._


	10. My Baby

_A/N: I updated early because I love y'all as much as you love this story/me (?)  
First off thanks to all the reviews. You guys responded like mad! Seriously I went to class and out to supper and like 3 hours later I had 19 emails of reviews and favorites and stuff. Thanks so much. I'm so glad you like the stoary and I hope you'll be happy to hear that we aren't even close to being done. I'm that this story entertains a lot of you and makes your day and other nice comments. I feel exactly the same way about writing it and getting reviews. And thanks for those who recommended it to other people. Free advertising is something you just can't buy.  
What I can tell you is that major conflicts are definitely coming up in the story, Sawyer is going to be featured a little more with angst included (WINK WINK! loudest winks ever) and Claire's sickness comes into play in the next chapter. _

Left Behind

Chapter 10

My Baby

Jack watches her as she turns further in his arms and slings an arm around his neck, her eyes squint playfully through her fatigue and the corners of her lips turn up into a smile, "What?"

He takes a deep breath in and wishes he didn't wait so long to tell her. He knows Kate is going to be upset, she has every right to. The Others violated her body and toyed with her mind, making her feel guilt and fear for things that aren't her fault. The only thing that keeps him from going after the Others is Kate's safety, he doesn't want to abandon her.

"The baby Kate," he pauses and glances down at his hands on her stomach it's the closest he comes to bonding with the baby for now. Her arm grows tighter around his neck as she shuffles up to sit straight. "Sawyer's not the father of the baby."

She rolls her green eyes at him, playing his truths off as a joke, "Yeah, okay Jack."

When she turns her head away, he gently turns it back with his fingers on her chin, "Kate, I'm serious."

"Jack," she sighs at him and pulls away so she can face him, but the movement separates them and he's anxious because he doesn't know if she intentionally wants them to be apart. She raises her one knee up and drapes her arm over it. He knows she's hesitant to tell him anything about Sawyer or about when she thinks the baby was conceived. Maybe some part of him wants her to feel the same tortured feeling he gets from her lies and that's why he waited so long to tell her.

"Kate," he speaks before she can offer him any kind of reciprocation that his knowledge to her next sentence was true, "When the Other's took us, when they wanted me to do Ben's surgery, they took you for another reason."

The expression of fatigue erases from her face and it's obvious that she knows what he's going to tell her isn't going to be good, "What are talking about?"

"The Other's were having trouble with women carrying full term in pregnancy," he turns away from her, he has to or else her face will haunt him until the day he dies, "No one was volunteering, so they picked you."

"No," she pushed away from him with her feet against the window seat, "No Jack, Sawyer and I—"

"Juliet artificially inseminated you," the words are rickety. He hates Juliet, he wants to, but every time he tries he remembers their last walk in the jungle. Remembers how the soil smelt after the light morning rain, remember how her smile was bright and the sunlight was golden. He remembers how she was gone in less than five minutes after the Others formed a firing squad. He can't hate her.

When he chances a look at Kate, she's pushed herself into the corner of the wall. Her lower lip is trembling and her eyes glassy, "No," she shakes her head so hard that a few strands of her hair fall free from the bun on top of her head, "you're lying."

Jack expects her to say it, but it still stabs his heart and makes his body turn cold. He keeps his composure; he has to because she needs to know the truth. With small, precise words he speaks, his voice abrupt but calm, "I have proof."

He does have proof. He found it over two hours ago, but the actual black ink on white paper evidence didn't affect him until this very moment. He can hear her sobs, quick bursts of condensed anguish and moves from the seat to retrieve the crumpled and over read piece of paper. When he hands the paper to her, he has to look away. All of the tears she's crying are because of him and it makes his stomach hurt.

He hears the paper crumple and her sniffle once, "that's just the overview of the pregnancy," he's sitting as far opposite of her as he can because he knows she's heartbroken. He wants to comfort her, but he knows she'll push him away, and he can't take that right now. "There's a full log of everything they know or," he pauses glances to Kate. Her eyes cut right through him, "what they did."

Jack watches as she reads over the paper, every few seconds new tears slide down her cheek and land on blue jeans fastened to her with a belt. Her hand falls with the paper and knocks off the wood; she raises her hand to wipe her cheek, but drops it when it's only halfway up. "Why did they do this to me?"

Kate drops her head so she can still read the paper while she cries. Her tears hit the paper with tiny taps that sound as loud as atomic bombs to Jack. She turns back to face him again, voice struggling to overcome the tears, "Why is you name on this?"

"I'm," he stops and shakily sighs, "I'm the father, Kate."

He doesn't want to watch her reaction, doesn't want her to question, or assume he had anything to do with the forced pregnancy. But the words he just spoke fill him with so much pride.

"What?" her curiosity gets the better of her, as it always does and she rereads the page again, just like he did. Just like he'll do when she gives him the paper back. Just like he will until he's holding the squabbling newborn in his arms. "How?"

"Juliet used our blood. I don't know how, exactly," he's ashamed. He wishes he had all the details lined up for her, but he doesn't quite understand it himself.

Kate stands, leaving the sheet of paper on the window seat, "I," she shakes her head and rubs at her eyes, "I need to be alone for a little while."

Jack bits his lower lip and nods his head; he knows it's harder for her than him. He wants to be with her, tell her that this may be the best thing to ever happen to him and blow off her claims that he's insane. But overall he just wants her to be happy so he lets her go.

He smiles through tears as he watches her waddle from the room. It's his baby. There's no shred of doubt now. If Juliet's technique is true to Ben's word, even if they don't make it off this island in two months, she'll still be alive. The baby will still be kicking and they'll be thinking of baby names.

Jack grabs the piece of paper again, his eyes reading over his typed name underneath the category 'biological material'. His smile broadens, he can't help it.

* * *

The next time he glances out the window, the sky has turned a hazy gray with hints of orange and a promise of rain. He's spent the whole afternoon in the small office, reading over the sheet of paper and several others trying to find a cause or a solution, should Juliet's theory be flawed. With a sigh he runs his hand through his hair and decides that five hours is long enough.

He leaves the house; one very close to Claire's and isn't surprised to find all the blinds drawn. She hasn't been too social lately, but with good reason. He doesn't want to think about it right now, "one problem at a time," he tells himself.

The house that Hurley claims belongs to Jack and Kate is in clear view, the yellow siding contrasting against the angry sky. Thunder crashes overhead and he thinks that he'll try the phone tonight; the calls strangely go through clearer in inclement weather.

As his foot touches the first stair a voice calls out to him. Without a shred of surprise Jack turns around to find Sawyer standing a few feet away, "you gotta get her off of the island."

Jack stiffly nods, "I'm trying too."

Sawyer begins to take a few steps forward, his voice increases in hostility, "well you gotta try harder." The exchange between them is tense and awkward. A silence grows between them, almost as fierce as the oncoming storm, "how's my baby?"

Jack doesn't know why Sawyer says it. Maybe to show that he is interested in the baby's safety because he thinks they share genetics. Maybe he's bragging because he thinks it will piss Jack off. Jack climbs the three stairs first, not offering an immediate answer until he's only a few feet from the door and he's had a chance to ruminate with his rage. He turns back to Sawyer who's standing at the bottom of the porch and simply states, "you're not the father."

Sawyer rolls his eyes and his eyebrows crease, "look I know I ain't been around for it so far but—"

"No," Jack shakes his head. With a shadow of a smile he elaborates, "You're not the genetic father."

Before Sawyer can ask questions that Jack is sure accompany the expression of confusion, he moves into the house and shuts the door behind him, this time he remembers to lock it. He kicks off his shoes, that clatter to the hardwood and notices the weather has shrouded the living room in an eerie darkness. By the time he's entering the bedroom rain is hitting the house.

The little light from outside that enters through the window outlines Kate's sleeping form. The white sheets resting just below her shoulders, wrinkles especially evident at her stomach that looks like a mountain growing out of the bed. He contemplates waking her, but decides against it and is about to leave the room when a loud crash of thunder shakes the room.

He stands in place for a few seconds more until her voice calls out to him, "Jack?"

"I'm here," he informs and crosses the room in record time. When he reaches her, she's turned on her side, a tiny bit of her stomach hanging over the lip of the bed. He crouches down before her, "how are you feeling."

"I'm done thinking," her voice is dream filled and almost inaudible over the rain dancing on the window. Her hand reaches for his and she brings them both to land on her protrusion, "I'm glad you're the father."

"You mean besides some random guy," he jokes because he has too. The room, the rain, Kate with a look of pure delight on her face in the twilight. Her hair spread across the pillows and their hands on her stomach. The sheet covering their baby. Their baby.

She loses the smile in a split second and Jack's afraid he said something to upset her, but she still tightly holds his hand. He stares into her eyes, tired but glowing in the dimness of the room, "I mean instead of Sawyer."

Jack doesn't know what to say, so he kisses her. Her lips are soft and full against his and he thinks at this moment that he could dedicate his life to them. To Kate and their child, to keeping them safe, happy and loved.

Kate pulls away smiling and tugs on his shirt to get his attention, "come lie down."

After kissing her again, he moves to the other side of the bed and reclines next to her. Soon they're fitted against each other, her head on his shoulder and her stomach resting atop his chest so he can feel any kicks that may come.

* * *

_The End_

KIDDING! A HA HA! I LOVE IT! Serves you right for not reading the A/N. I don't do them for me people.

Next Chapter - Locke comes a courting and we find out what's up with Claire and Aaron and what the real threat is. Plus there's pancakes. Have a pancake


	11. Dubious

_A/N: First off this chapter sucks. A lot. I'm not even kidding. I had an off writing day. It's not good in anyway, but I needed to put it in to explain some stuff. So I'll make you a deal. Deal with this chapter, being sucky and I promise you that the next chapter will have all the conflict/chilvary/angst/ everything you guys want and more in it. Just don't flame me. Because I know how bad this chapter is.  
I'm glad all of you enjoyed last chapter and reviewed (to those of you who ate the pancakes YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE! (hint hint). Please remember that chapter while you're reading this chapter. _

Left Behind 

Chapter 11

Dubious

It's nearing the end of February, it could already be March. All she knows is that for the past two weeks, since that night of acceptance with Jack, it's been raining nonstop. Locke tells her it's nearing the end of the rainy season and that soon it'll be back to muggy and hot, but she has nothing to go by. There are no calendars in any of the houses; she's checked all of them in her spare time. The Others didn't like calendars. Or Locke doesn't like calendars. 

Kate's been stuck in the house for almost two weeks straight, with nothing to do except grow bigger. None of the clothes she brought with her will fit, she knows it. The red tank top she's been using religiously is starting to be resistant, sometimes some of the fibers snap. The middle three buttons on Jack's shirt won't do up anymore. If she was smart, when she was scavenging for a calendar, she could have looked for clothing as well, but things seem to slip her mind easier now. 

As she reaches for a glass on the top shelf in the kitchen, her stomach pushes into the counter. She groans as her fingers struggle to reach the cup and finally she manages to grasp it. She always forgets how big she is and she keeps banging her stomach off random things, like doors or drawers. Kate smiles as an apology while rubbing the spot where the pressure had been and reminds herself to set a hand on her stomach for protection before she does most things. 

A few seconds later when she slides open a drawer for a spoon she maneuvers out of the way just on time before the handle would have crashed into her. She swears her memory is going, but Jack told her that it was all in her head, then laughed and told her to forget about it. 

Kate grumbles at the memory as she scoops powdered milk from the Dharma labeled package into the empty cup. Jack had better talk to Locke soon, because this was their last box and it wasn't going to last to the end of the day. She can deal with most things, like the backaches, the constant bathroom breaks, the nightmares and the newest addition of slightly swelling feet. But if she has to go a day without milk, she thinks she'll lose it. 

There are no clocks around, just like calendars, but she knows that until an hour before nightfall Jack will either be studying medical charts or taking care of Claire. Claire who she still hasn't seen in two and a half weeks, Jack won't tell her anything about it. He has convinced Hurley not to either and she really doesn't feel like getting her island gossip from Sawyer, who she hasn't seen since their argument. 

The glass clanks as she sets it on the counter and takes a deep gulp of air. The remains of the grainy mixture are sliding down the inside of the glass and she wonders how she could have drunk the entire thing all ready. The empty house almost mocks her and the echoing of the tap turning on resonates longer than it should. 

When she chances a look outside through the window above the sink, she smiles because even though the Barracks look like a field of mud, the rain has finally stopped. Turning the glass upside down on a towel to dry, she hurries to the bedroom, ignoring how she knows her walk is a waddle, and stops in the doorway to stare down her shoes. 

The shoes along with her engorging feet are the newest chapter to Kate's pregnancy woes. Her shoes are impossible to get on; moving around her stomach is now near impossible, and the odd time when she spends over an hour getting both shoes on, her feet and ankles end up throbbing. Those instances end up with the shoes being flung at the wall. She's seen Jack eye the mud stains on the wall but he's never said anything. 

Before she can even attempt to pick up the tan hiking boots there's a stern knock at the front door. Kate lets out an aggravated sigh and waddles into the front room to answer the door. On the other side of the threshold Locke smiles at her wide and almost dubiously. The weak sun battling with the clouds illuminates his face, drawing attention to the sinister looking scar running over his eye. 

"Afternoon Kate," he greets and hold out a paper plate with cellophane wrapped tight around the contents which appear to be pancakes, "missed you at breakfast today. I thought you might be hungry."

She accepts the plate with a cautious smile, "thanks John, I'll eat these later. I don't have much of an appetite today."

"Sorry to hear that," his smile pulls wider, "other than that, how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," Kate hides her skepticism, "I was just leaving to go visit Jack. He told me he was going to spend the day reviewing medical files."

Locke shakes his head and crosses his arms, "No not today Kate, he's up with Claire," he pauses as if the next words take extra time to plan, "I don't think it would be to wise to visit her."

She takes offense to his words, but she masks them with concern, "Why can't I see Claire, what's wrong with her?"

Locke's lips press so firm they're almost white. His eyes stare into hers, as if they're toying with each other. In a way they are. "You mean Jack didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" the words come out in a huff as her back tightens and her patience disappears.

"He didn't tell you what happened to Claire and Aaron?"

* * *

Kate could hear him as he walks down the dirt path. He's tired and his feet are dragging against the drying mud, in less than five minutes he'll be home. She's sitting on the plaid couch in the front room close to the end table, but not close enough to reach the lamp. For that reason the room is dim with strangled light from the clouds and sunset.

She's been in the same spot for almost an hour, waiting for Jack to return, mulling over what Locke told her and what Jack didn't. Her hand is draped over her stomach which is covered by the same 

red tank top that her wardrobe consists of. She's waiting for the baby to kick, but throughout the entire day she hasn't felt a thing. 

Jack opens the door, a thin layer of sweat glistening on his arms from the walk and the mugginess caused by the rain. When he sees her he jumps back and chuckles, "Jesus Kate, you have to stop doing that."

"Why didn't you tell me?" it surprises her that her voice is so calm. She expected to start screaming at him the moment he entered the house, but for some odd reason she's holding back. She wants to believe that Locke is lying. That Jack would tell her if she was in danger. If their baby was in danger.

"Why didn't I tell you what?" he questions as he crosses the room and turns on the table lamp. She can hear the naivety in his voice and when light floods the room he's smiling like everything is okay, when he's known since they arrived at the Barracks that it's not. 

Using the arm of the couch for support she stands, and crosses her arms over her chest "Why didn't you tell me why Claire's depressed, or what happened to Aaron?" 

The smile falls from his face and immediately she can see it's not something he's proud of, "Kate, I was going to tell you but I didn't want you to spend every day worrying. I didn't want you to be stressed. This pregnancy is high-risk already. You don't have most of the vitamins you need, and if something happens there's no hospital—"

"Jack, the Others took him," her voice is sharp now, and she can feel her temples throb, "They just came here and took him. He's gone."

"Locke's group wasn't ready for the strike, they took a few people along with Aaron, there wasn't enough people to fight," Jack's eyes are on the floor, his hand uneasily rubbing the back of his head.

"We're not ready for a fight Jack," Kate takes a step forward, her hand reaching for his, "And they're going to come. They're the ones who started this."

"I'm not going to let them do anything Kate," he squeezes her hand and pulls her closer.

Her head shakes and she rests it on his chest, "we need to get out of here."

She can feel his hand smooth over her hair as the other firmly rests on her back, "I've been trying the phone every night it—"

"We need to get out of the Barracks Jack," she pulls away and looks him in the eye, "We need to go back to the beach or the clearing and we need to wait for the helicopter."

"No," his head is shaking and his jaw set, "you can't walk back all the way back to the beach. Sawyer, Hurley and Locke are here. It's safer here."

"How can you say that? This is where they took Aaron," her anger melts into frustration at Jack, at the situation, at everything, "Jack, Locke could be working with them, we need to leave." 

Jack falls silent and she knows he's contemplating their options. Kate moves close and once again takes his hand and places his palm flat on her stomach, "Jack," her voice is trembling with the tears welling in her eyes, "if I have this baby on the island, they will come and they will take it." Slowly, she moves her eyes back to his, eager to find understanding and agreement. His face resembles her own, etched with deep lines of sleepless nights.

The feelings are overwhelming within her. This baby that she didn't even have a conscious part in conceiving is now her main reason for survival. "Jack," her voice is almost deafened by the fear and concern present in her voice, "If they take this baby, we will never see it again."

Jack moves forward and presses his lips to hers and they both ignore each other's tears. Both his hands now cover her stomach, his thumbs meeting at her belly button, and he pulls away from her lips to his her forehead in reassurance, "We'll leave tomorrow afternoon." 

* * *

_Next Chapter -_ _I promise you whatever you want (within reason) just please don't tell me how much this chapter sucked. Because I KNOW!_


	12. Nightmares

_A/N: Thanks for the nice comments about last chapter. I agree that it was a filler chapter, but it was definitely written when I had an off day (I like to use the term literary brain fart to describe it).  
Anyways two things you need to know:  
One, is I am going home for the weekend and have major projects due on the Wednesday so an update before then is going to be determined by my ability to double team them. Hopefully I'll wipe them out early, but I'm not promising.  
Two, enjoy the fluff because in the next chapter it stops._

Left Behind

Chapter 12

Nightmares

Outside the open window the long grass cries in the wind. The rain started again a little more than an hour ago, but it's gentle this time, like tears falling from heaven. Jack's only been awake for a few minutes, woken by the sound of rustling transferred from a dream based on the noises from outside the nearby window. In those quick few seconds in the relocation from dream to reality he grew wide awake. He even reached for the gun he's hidden in the bedside table before Kate's whimper made him settle.

Sleep didn't come easy for them tonight. Kate professed some rooted fear about her dreams, her nightmares being fabrications of the Others but when he asked what they were about, she couldn't remember. He didn't question her further; there was no shrouded guilt behind her green eyes. He implored to her that the memory loss was accompanying the fatigue she felt so often, but he knows that's a lie, and thinks she knows too. They both smile and nod anyway because it's one less thing for them to worry about.

But he does worry about it. The easiest explanation on his conscience is that the loss of memory is attributed to the way the baby was conceived. A side effect of sorts. That answer isn't too bad; he can deal with it, knowing that it's not his fault, just like a low fever after a necessary vaccine. 

The next one comes with more fear, more concern, and more hatred. That Juliet's theory was flawed, and Kate's body is beginning to turn against her, breaking down natural functions like memory storage and energy distribution. It makes his palms sweat and his heart beat faster, knowing that Kate's remaining time on the island is marked and she only has a month to leave, or she'll be buried here. 

As odd as it may sound, the second speculation is still not the worse. The real answer to Kate's memory loss Jack knows is protection. Selective memory, the brain's method of blocking out the bad and showcasing the good. Kate doesn't remember anything about the day supposedly one hundred and fifty-two days ago when they were drugged, a procedure was preformed and a life was created. But it is entirely possible that she was conscious throughout the operation, and that these bad dreams are tormented memories manifesting. Not just possible, definite. 

Her head is heavy with sleep against his chest. Her hair is fanned out across his body, soft and almost tickling when she adjusts her body in slumber against his. Her hand is laying concave over his ribs, fingertips icy and hand limp. The only signs of alertness are coming from inside Kate; with her stomach laying against his the frequent punts from the baby poke at his skin. 

With moving as little as possible, Jack slowly slides his hand from flat against the mattress to Kate and folds up her shirt to expose her stomach. The baby is still kicking when his hand lands on the bump. The baby has been flailing all night, the only time it stopped was when he rubbed her stomach. Kate managed to fall asleep, he still doesn't know how.

The baby's strong movements fuel Jack's mind to wonder about what life will be like off the island for them. What it would be like to come home from work to Kate and their child. A little girl waddling with uneven footsteps and mud stained overalls. The wild hair, random freckles and curious eyes as her hands play with his stethoscope. 

Jack wants the baby to be a girl. He won't share this with Kate. He never will because he doesn't want to explain why, and he doesn't want her to feel that he will love the baby any less if it's a boy. The truth is, the father and son dynamic was definitely absent in his relationship with his father. Although he does have some good memories, he can think of five rotten ones that budded from them. Even though having a son would give him the opportunity to fix mistakes made by his father but it seems like an unnecessarily added pressure that he could deal without. 

His eyes fall on the calm in Kate's face and he thinks that if they have a daughter, she'll look like Kate and for that he'll love her more. Still staring at her in the dark with the rain pattering outside and the waning moon casting a weak beam into the room her face suddenly flinches. Before Jack can react, her body jerks away from him and she's sitting up unnaturally quick. Her breaths are raspy and Jack can see her chest collapse and re-inflate at dramatic levels. 

He pushes himself into a sitting position and the sheet falls from his bare chest to his lap, "Kate?" Her name leaves his mouth hesitantly as he watches her eyes wildly dart around the room. When he reaches out and grasps her arm, she wrenches her arm away from him with a whimper. 

"Kate," his voice comes out clearer and he grips her arm tighter this time. She grunts as she tries to pull away but he manages to keep his hold on her, "hey."

She stills in his arms, eyes wide and full of fear until they focus on his face and reassurance sets in, "Jack," his name is a gasp as she falls into him, arms tightly wrapping around his neck as she heaves deep breaths of relief.

"It's okay," he moves her hair away from her face causing his hand to skim her sweat covered skin. He feels her body relax, the tension leaving her arms and her back curve against his arms. They sit for a few minutes in silence until she lets out one last shaky breath and he knows she's ready to talk. "Nightmare?"

"Yeah," Kate nods her head against his shoulder.

Jack caresses her cheek when she pulls away, "it got you pretty agitated."

"I always do, it's just," she pauses and closes her eyes as if she's in physical pain, "I never remember what they're about."

"People forget their bad dreams all the time, Kate," he placates her with a lie he's made sound real. Scientific facts spewing from a doctor's mouth are hardly questioned. It makes him feel bad. Makes him feel guilty but why should they both lose sleep over something neither of them can solve?

He waits for Kate to respond, his eyebrows slant with worry and his hands are gentle on her biceps. She blinks a few times, and then places a hand to her forehead. "Kate?" 

Kate's eyelids drift close. Her body is heavy in his arms as they become her only support, "Kate." His heart starts to race as her head flops forward. He lays her back on the bed, careful not to jar her and that the position is not an uncomfortable one.

He leans over her, his fingers finding her neck and pressing deep into the shallow area above her collarbone for a pulse. There is one; it's thready and uneven but strong under her skin. Her chest is rising and falling evenly allowing Jack to take in a deep breath himself. He places a hand on her stomach and the baby kicks, nothing serious yet. 

"Jack," her voice is a squeak from below him, eyes half open in weakness.

"Easy," his hand moves to her shoulder to stop her from rising, and then to her head to check for a fever, "you lost consciousness for a second, are you okay?"

Kate deeply inhales and her back arches against the bed because of her position, "I'm tired, Jack." 

He sighs and moves his hand from her head, "You should go back to sleep." He thinks about tomorrow and the more than a day's worth of walking they have to travel. 

"I don't want to have that nightmare again."

The revelation is blunt and it throws him off balance for a few seconds. Kate doesn't really open up to him about her fears or her weaknesses, to have her open up to him without him prodding first is a shock, "I know they're very lucid," he turns so he's sitting closer to her, but on the edge of the bed, "but they're only dreams Kate."

"It's just when Claire—" Kate stops and touches her stomach with her fingertips for a second before drawing them away again. "Jack it isn't like there's a good record for me to use as an outline."

He takes her hand in his as he fills the empty spot next to her. She turns as much as she can with her back still lying flat against the bed. Even though her eyes are fatigued, all the apprehension she hides during the day has broken free. 

Jack kisses her hand and places his head next to hers on the pillow, "Kate nothing is going to get you."

The tears in her eyes are reflecting the moonlight and she whispers, "What if you're not here?"

He kisses her gently and smiles at the small gasp she let out in surprise. He kisses her cheek, and runs a hand over her stomach, feeling another quick kick in the process, "I will never leave you."

"Never?" Kate sighs, seemingly content with his promise as a safety net. She shuffles her body closer so she's touching him.

"Never," Jack lets his eyes fall closed with hers. The smell of the rain outside and Kate beside him erases what agonizing thoughts burn away his energy. Instead he's lulled into a peaceful sleep beside the woman he loves.

* * *

_Next Chapter- They want to leave but the new Other's don't take kindly to that around them there parts. Angst/drama/ other stuff ensues. _


	13. Scrambled

_A/N: Yay I updated like I said I would and now you all love me. That's right don't deny what we have. This author/reviewer relationship (you'd better be reviewing!) Thanks for reviewing to the last chapter and Live Together, Die Alone (pimpity pimp-pimp) and I wanted everyone to know that I just realized today that both stories are the titles to Lost episodes which I didn't mean and I think is totally moochtastic.  
Real A/N: So Claire may seem a little OOC. But you have to remember that Aaron was taken (for those of you who didn't know Aaron was taken go back to chapter one and read from there). Also the reason she's not in shambles about it is because he was taken awhile ago. So the initial shock is over. If you don't buy that remember how Claire acted after she found out Charlie died and how she only cried once. She handles loss extremely well, but when they take Kate's baby we'll see differe--I mean enjoy the chapter!_

Left Behind

Chapter 13 (AHH)

Scrambled

"Claire, I'm only trying to help you," Jack takes a seat in one of the worn armchairs across from the couch. The room is dark, the blinds drawn with the faint glow of the afternoon sun behind them.

The younger girl has her knees pulled to her chest and her back tightly pressing into one of the couch's arms. She's wearing the same blue shirt and the same pair of jean capris as she was when he first saw her almost two weeks ago. "I never asked for it," her voice is jagged and full of hate, yet strangely empty.

"You need it Claire," he's through tiptoeing around the subject because he and Kate are leaving today. If Claire wants to get better, she needs to tell him today, "You need more help than I can give you."

"Really?" her head slants to the side. The action makes her look almost alien, her blue eyes dilating against the darkness. Her chapped lips rub together, than part, "I thought you were the hero."

Jack shakes his head, no fraction of mirth within him, "I'm not."

"No," she turns her head away from him again, a curtain of tangling sandy hair blocking her face, "Heroes live happily ever after."

His eyebrows furrow and he leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. By now he's growing used to Claire's unnaturally impolite remarks, "What do you mean?"

A small, remorseful smile crosses her lips, "You think I haven't seen her?"

Jack sighs, he runs a hand through his hair, but doesn't reply verbally.

"You thought I wouldn't see her?" Claire broadly questions, her tone is still civil, "I may spend all day in this room but it doesn't mean I don't hear the island gossip."

"Hurley," Jack almost rolls his eyes at the other man's inability to keep a secret for more time than he can hold his breath.

"They're going to get her Jack," Claire turns to him again and her face is full of ennui. Her eyes are darker than before and careless. Her skin has lightened to an ash color, "They're going to get Kate, and they're going to get your baby."

Her attitude angers him, her tone contradictory to all the thoughts he's forced himself and Kate to believe. Claire seems so sure of herself, the way she talks like the events she predicts are imminent and even though the emotions Jack feels towards her negative views are justifiable, any action on them is not.

It shocks him how blunt and pessimistic Claire is, but he wasn't here when Aaron was taken. He doesn't know exactly how it happened, doesn't want to either. He can't help Claire, can't help her deal with the grief she feels or her random bursts of tears, but he can still help Kate.

"Kate and I are leaving in a few hours," it's surprising the first person who learns about their departure is the person who cares the least, "we're going to see if we can get in contact with the freighter or the helicopter."

"You won't," Claire shakes her head, her draping ratty hair slithers in the movement.

"Claire," Jack sighs and leans forward more, his elbows almost sliding off his knees. "I wish I could help you more, I honestly do," he speaks the truth. He really does want to rush out into the woods to retrieve the little boy with the brightest blue eyes he's ever seen, but he can't jeopardize Kate. He won't jeopardize Kate. Things fall into a different hierarchy for him now. "You need a therapist."

She lets out a dry chuckle and rubs her hands against the fraying denim covering her legs, "I guess it's just my luck that Michael shot Libby then."

Jack watches her closely a little dumbfounded by the expression of dark humor. Her fidgeting fingers stop as she rises from the couch and glances to the front door, "I meant you won't get through the transmission." She waits a few seconds as Jack is sure another look of astonishment crosses his face, "you should leave now."

Claire takes a few steps to exit the living area, her head hanging down and ignoring the laundry basket with unfolded blankets covering the inside. He bets she hasn't touched it since Aaron was taken. "Wait," Jack calls to her before she disappears down the hallway, "How do you know the transmissions won't go through?"

She turns back, her body in an awkward stance and her eyes hidden behind a thick layer of bangs that are too long to see through and too short to tuck behind her ears. "Talk to Locke about it."

At the mention of the name Jack knows that all jest has left and the conversation is now completely serious, "Why should I talk to him?" his voice comes out grated against resentment towards Locke.

Claire's expression changes to allow a shadow of feeling to cross her face. Her eyebrows slightly drop and she purses her lips together as she seems to be torn between divulging the answer or not. "Because," she sighs and wrenches her eyes together like she can foresee his reaction, "he's the one scrambling the messages."

"What?" he questions with a light chuckle, though it lasts to long. He's aware that his smile is too wide, and that he must look crazed but Claire doesn't react. She doesn't patronize him by answering his question again, because she knows that he knows.

Without uttering a word Claire exits the room, he hears her bedroom door shut behind her and he thinks that his eye is twitching. With speed he doesn't know he has he leaves Claire's house with the darkness he found it in and heads to the other side of camp. He's going to confront Locke, going to find out what the hell is going on with him and the others, and then get Kate as far away from here as he can.

"Yo, Doc," from the corner of his eye he can see Sawyer throw a wave to him, more to get his attention than to wish any salutations. By Sawyer's voice he can tell this isn't meant to be a jaunty conversation, hopefully he can tell by Jack's quick movements that the conversation isn't going to exist.

Sawyer can't. "Hey Jackass," he shouts his voice full of embers like the ones that fall from the end of his cigarette as he rushes over to catch up, "You and me got things to talk about."

"Not now, Sawyer," Jack keeps his pace and refuses to make eye contact, his head still facing the direction of Locke's house.

"Yeah, now," Sawyer moves a few feet in front of him and then straight into his path.

Jack stops just short of running the other man down. Within his mouth his teeth grind off each other and he can feel the pressure building in his temples. With a short, dry laugh and a shake of his head he informs, "This better be good."

"Look," Sawyer's voice eases into a respectable tone, "I've been real good with everything that's been going on here," his eyebrows fall into the same upset stance Jack has seen a thousand times before, "but you gotta start filling in the blanks."

"You haven't talked to Kate about it?" Jack is skeptical and has reason to be. For all he knows Kate could have answered Sawyer's questions already and now he's here to get Jack to say something so the words can be skewed.

"Been staying away from her," a small level of hurt is recognizable in Sawyer's voice as he throws the cigarette to the ground and snuffs it out with his foot. "Read in those medical files that stress ain't good for pregnancies on the island."

Jack almost scoffs, "you read the medical files?"

"What I could of 'em," Sawyer replies with a little shake of his head, "been in the Barracks awhile Doc, got through most of the reading material in the first two months."

"What did you want to talk about?" Jack spares a small laugh at the joke, but this conversation isn't the most important thing on his mind right now.

Sawyer smiles ruefully, "heard through the grapevine that you and Freckles are leaving us this afternoon."

"Kate told Hurley," Jack deduces aloud, his head nodding slowly with irritation and his teeth almost burrowing through his lower lip.

"You can't take her away," Sawyer's statement is blunt. When Jack looks to him, his blue eyes are almost burning.

"Sawyer," Jack groans and shakes his head, "it's not your baby. There's another med—"

"As much as it surprises you, I ain't exactly excited at the idea of being a dad," Sawyer divulges his voice lowering, "so you wanna be there instead of me, I'm glad to wave my rights."

Before Jack can open his mouth to fully explain the situation, Sawyer interrupts him again, "I ain't interested specifics, you're the dad I'm not, we're done with it." The con man takes a few quick glances around, then continues, "You can't leave because you won't get anywhere. Old Man Locke's got those fences turned on so you're blocked in."

"Why does Locke want to keep us here?" His question is very simple, but he hopes Sawyer can explain what exactly is going on.

"Honestly Doc, if you don't know that yet," Sawyer shakes his head and chuckles.

"Is Locke working with the Others?"

Sawyer shrugs his shoulders, "Know about as much as you do, Jacko," his eyes catch on something behind the doctor and he begins to walk towards it, "Only thing I know about the Others is that Locke paraded Ben around on that leash for close to five damn months."

Jack turns at the end of the other man's sentence to see Hurley running down the dirt path. His face is painted bright red and shines with sweat in the weak afternoon sunlight.

"Hugo," Sawyer shouts with his hands clamping around his mouth, "You know running ain't good for you."

Hurley finds the two men and approaches them with his hands on his hips and heaving for air, "Jack," he pauses and takes a deep breath in, "Something's wrong with Kate."

* * *

_Next Chapter - Something's wrong with Kate_

Next chapters to both stories will most likely be up by the end of the weekend.


	14. Blank

_A/N: Late I know. I'm not going to go through the motions as to why, just enjoy. Thanks for the reviews and the patience. _

Left Behind

Chapter 14

Blank

"Where is she?" Jack asks over his shoulder though he's already two large strides closer to the house where he left Kate this morning.

Hurley stands still, his hands on his knees, "She's at your house, Dude," his words come through deep inhalations.

Jack barely hears the answer before his jog transforms into a frantic run across the small clearing and following the swerving dirt road. He doesn't have to look to know that Sawyer is behind him, because he can hear conman's footsteps matching his own. He doesn't know why it bothers him so much, that Sawyer still cares for Kate. She clearly chose him, but Sawyer still hasn't backed off. Jack supposes that it's just like after he saw them through the security camera in The Hydra, he knew that Kate was with Sawyer, but he didn't want to admit it.

It's Sawyer's thoughts on the baby that bother him more than his still visible feelings towards Kate. Whether the baby was his or not, he seemed to relinquish all of his rights to Jack, but the doctor remembers the quick flash of hesitancy in the conman's eyes. It scared Jack; maybe Sawyer would have second thoughts and go after a child that isn't even his.

The three stairs to the porch are covered in one large leap. Reaching his hand out, Jack grabs the handle to the front door and almost flings it right off its hinges. He expects Sawyer to lay into him with some smartass remark, but the man taking the stairs behind him says nothing.

The front room is dark; the curtains on the windows are diluting the afternoon sunlight. Kate is sitting on the couch wearing his navy blue sweater, rubbing her hands up and down her arms as if she's freezing. When she looks up at him, her eyes are dull and her skin far too pallid.

"What happened?" Jack falls to the couch beside her as Sawyer stands in the doorway, letting the soft breeze of the rainy season drift throughout the house. Jack presses his hand to her forehead and is shocked to find it freezing.

Kate's body is almost ice cold when she falls against him for warmth, "I'm so cold." Her hands disappear up into her sleeves when he starts to rub her shoulders for friction. She winces and one of her pale hands flies to her forehead, "I have the worst headache."

"Maybe you need glasses," Sawyer suggests, his body filling the entire frame of the doorway.

Jack sends him a glare, wrapping an arm around Kate's shoulder as she leans forward. Her head presses into her palms and her elbows dig into her knees. "You should lie down," he keeps his voice soft so he doesn't upset her headache, "I'll get you some water and aspirin."

Kate nods, her head rocking against her hands. When she moves to stand up, Jack slides his hands underneath her biceps to help her, she wavers on her feet for a moment, but then she stills and her eyes grow wide, "I think I'm going to be sick."

"God," Sawyer moans from the doorway as Kate's bare feet slap against the hardwood until the toilet seat crashes against the porcelain tank and the sounds of Kate emptying her stomach can be heard.

"Where's Hurley?" Jack ignores the other man's protests.

Sawyer leans out, his neck craning in the sunlight, "Coming up the walk now. Shouldn't you be worried 'bout Freckles?"

Jack sighs and nervously rubs at the back of his neck. When Hurley begins to unevenly walk up the stairs Jack moves by Sawyer, "right now I'm more worried about what she ate." He moves onto the white painted porch to Hurley who looks like he's just caught his breath, "Hurley, did Kate eat anything while you were with her?"

"No," Hurley shakes his head which is streaked with sweat. After a few moments with a discouraging face his expression lightens, "Oh, but she when I came over she just finished Locke's pancakes from yesterday."

"Locke gave us pancakes?" Jack asks with skepticism as he crosses his arms.

"The Great White Hunter's been pulling more of the Emeril attitude lately. Figures that if he cooks us all breakfast, it makes us more like a family," Sawyer moves away from the door and eyes the house down the path that belongs to Locke.

"Um," Hurley darts his eyes to the porch, then back to Jack. His voice is slow and stuttering, "Locke kind of made extra pancakes and brought them over to Kate yesterday."

"Locke did this," Jack sets his jaw and shakes his head while trying to ignore the fermenting anger within him. "He's blocking the messages and keeping us here because he's working with the Others."

"So you think he just paraded Ben around for the last five months for show?" Sawyer reaches a hand into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette.

Jack crosses his arms in a challenging manner before realizing that Sawyer isn't the man doing all this, "And you don't think it's odd that Locke's turned on the fences and scrambled all the outgoing messages?"

"He's blocking all the outgoing calls?" Hurley's usually pleasant voice now holds a sharp edge, "he just kept saying communications were down."

"Hurley, do you think you could go check on Claire for me?" Jack questions as he moves back into the house, "See if she has any more of the medicine Charlie gave her."

"Mr. Clean's got a bunch of it stored away in his house." Sawyer interrupts. His words accompanied by puffs of smoke from his cigarette. "Ben gave it to him when we first got here."

This catches Jack's attention, "Do you think you can get some from him?" He feels the need to lower his voice, even though no one is around who could compromise the situation.

Sawyer laughs gruffly, "And what exactly do you want me to tell him when he asks why I need it?"

Jack shrugs, his fingers curling around the chipped white paint on the front door, "tell him the truth," he suggests than shuts the door. The action is not meant to be rude, but he desperately wants to check on Kate without an audience.

Walking down the hallway he tries to ignore the shame that he feels. He should have been noticing what was happening around him, that Locke could have and is in cahoots with the Others. Kate sensed something and he ignored her, ignored her dreams. When he enters the bedroom she's sitting on the end of the bed, her head resting in her hands again and her shoulders shaking.

"The headache still bad?" he questions as he rounds the bed and rifles through his pack to find aspirin. She turns her head to look at him, eyes squinted in question. "What?"

"How did you know that I had a headache?" her eyebrows are furrowed almost in fright as she stares at him.

A short chuckle escapes him as his expression almost mimics hers, "You're kidding right?" She doesn't answer him but her face changes to one of seriousness. "Kate you just told me you did when Sawyer and Hurley were here."

"Jack," her eyes glance to the side like if this is a game he needs to stop playing, "I haven't seen Sawyer since we got into that fight two weeks ago."

He abandons the aspirin and his bag to sit on the end of the bed next to her, "Kate it happened less than five minutes ago. You left because you thought you were going to get sick."

Shaking her head and letting her hair bob, Kate takes a moment to wince at the movement, "Jack, I don't remember any of that."

"What do you remember?" he places a hand to her forehead and almost recoils when he touches her icy skin.

Kate sighs, and lets her head drop for a moment, "Well, I remember being pregnant," she starts as she places a hand on her stomach, "I remember leaving the beach for the Barracks."

"Do you remember the medical records?" Jack swallows nervously after asking because he doesn't think he can go through explaining the bizarre parentage of the baby over again.

The corners of her lips turn upwards into a hint of a smile, "I know you're the father Jack," the way she answers almost implies she knows what he was thinking.

Jack lets out a dry laugh, because it's honestly the only thing he can do to keep from going crazy right now, "What about Aaron?"

Kate's face reverts back to one of confusion, "What do you mean?"

"Do you remember that the Others' took Aaron?"

Shifting away from him, her eyes glance to the side and then back to Jack. "What are you talking about?"

"You found out last night, that's why we were leaving today," he reaches out and takes her hand, "Kate just try to remember."

Her lower lip trembles, "I can't."

"Just try," his hand slides up and down her arm to comfort her. He doesn't want to push her so hard, but he needs to know the level of her amnesia.

"I can't," she cries with anger. Her hands fly up to her temples again and she sobs, "Jack," her voice cuts off after his name, though the cadence of it sounds like she wants to say more.

Sick feelings boil within his stomach, feelings of failure and rage, but he keeps them well hidden even though they're eating away inside of him. Jack pulls Kate to his chest and presses his lips into the top of her head, "Okay."

"You said we were going to leave?" she questions, both her hands wrap around his arm as she fights tears. He can't think of a proper way to answer her, to tell her about Locke and his partnership with the Others. "If we were going to leave," she pulls back to look into his eyes, "then we need to leave."

"No," he shakes his head, "We need to sort through this now." He doesn't even bother telling her about all the hurdles standing in their way.

"We need to leave today," her fingers grow tighter around his arm.

Jack sighs he doesn't want to put the blame on her but there's nothing else he can use as a scapegoat, "we need to wait until we can make the trek halfway across the island."

"Locke said we should leave before the end of the rainy season," she blurts suddenly, her expression showing shock at her ability to remember.

"When did he say that?" Jack begins to feel hope again, though something inside of him knows it won't last for long.

Kate pauses and mulls the question over, "I think this morning, I think that—" she stops her sentence by pressing a palm into her forehead and letting out a weak yelp.

Jack springs forward, and his hand fights to pry her hand away from her head so he can examine the area, "Kate, lie back."

"I—" her protest ends and she sits completely still, both her hands falling from her forehead as two bright streams of blood flow from her nose.

* * *

_Next Chapter - You'll like it, it's all I'm saying. _


	15. Warm

_A/N: Okay so instead of doing my rewrite of a story I have to hand on on Wednesday, I wrote this instead. Because I like this story more. I'm very tired right now from bedtimes of 7am the last two days. So please excuse grammtical/spelling errors. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. You guys are awesome and I'm glad so many of you are so involved in the story. Remember if there's any questions feel free to ask them, I know it can get confusing (I'm writing it and I don't even know where I am). Oh and to answer everyone's main question of "What did Locke give her?" We were looking for roofies. Roofies was the answer. No it's not but wouldn't it be funny if it was?  
**Real A/N:** I understand that there's a huge gap in the storyline. It's just like Kate's memory. So just relax Guy, and enjoy the gropping and implied sex and I promise the next chapter will be the gap filler.  
_

Left Behind

Chapter 15

Warm

Her eyelids flutter until the black opens to a canvas of colors. The sun is bright through the window covering the entire room in a warm glow. The light tingles the skin on her arms as she takes a relaxing breath in before noticing the weight on her lower half. Jack's head lies on her thighs and one of his arms is draped across her stomach.

Kate smiles and moves a hand down to caress Jack's head. She chokes on her laughter when his position catches her attention. He must have brought a chair in from the front room last night, because he's sitting with the top part of his body leaning against the bed. She knows that his back is going to hurt by the way that he's lying and she wonders if he's been that way all night long.

The short hair on his head is soft underneath her fingers and she traces them down to his neck. Jack shifts underneath her touch. He groans with fatigue, or maybe pain, and presses a palm into his eyes trying to clear them of sleep. Kate keeps her hand on the back of his neck, until he turns his head to face her, "Did you sleep like that all night?"

Immediately, his hand wraps around her wrist and yanks it away from the back of his neck. The action makes her think that she's done something wrong, but Jack scrambles to the head of the bed, "Are you okay?" His hand flies to her forehead.

"Jack," she almost laughs as his hand moves to her neck, nimble fingers checking her pulse. She tries to swat it away, but he's persistent, "I'm fine." Kate catches his hand within hers but his expression doesn't change, "What's wrong with you?"

His hand slips from hers. He furrows his eyebrows and turns his attention towards the sheets like he doesn't know if what he's about to say is going to be appropriate. "Kate, do you remember anything about yesterday?"

"Yeah," she pushes herself so she can rest against the backboard of the bed. Jack doesn't respond, only waits for her to continue. Kate sighs and rolls her eyes wondering how his concern for her can grow to be so annoying. "You said last night that we were going to leave by noon. We'd better get moving if we—"

"Kate," he bows his head, and presses his forehead into his steepled fingers, "That didn't happen yesterday."

She arches an eyebrow at him because she knows that he isn't playing, but what he's suggesting is ridiculous. She knows what happens yesterday, remembers it perfectly, "Yes it did," she pulls her knees up the best she can, and drapes her arms over them. "You came back. I got mad and we decided to leave."

Waiting for his response, she starts to fidget with the lining on the sheet. Jack nods his head against his clasped hands and looks up to her with a grin, "You're right," he stands from the chair and rounds the bed, "I forgot, I'm still getting over sleeping in that chair."

Kate laughs and the bed dips with his weight beside her. Turning on her side, she lets her hand fall into the sunlight splashed across the pillow and closes her eyes when he moves a hand through her hair. "Are you tired?"

"Kind of," she sighs into the pillow and lazily smiles, "I shouldn't be, I actually slept good last night," her hand floats to her stomach, "No bad dreams."

Warmth greater than the sun's rays covers her stomach when Jack's hand lands beside hers, "You're allowed to be tired," his own voice still holding remnants of sleep. When he adjusts his head against the pillow he releases a groan.

"Did you sleep the wrong way?" Kate questions, her voice playful. Jack rubs the back of his neck with his hand and sends her a glare, though she knows it's fake. Her hand moves to his neck again, feeling the hard muscle underneath her fingertips, "Why did you sleep in that chair all night anyways?"

Jack's face loses the jovial expression as he quickly turns his head away. Before he answers he moves closer to her. She feels one of his legs separate both of hers so he can be nearer. One of his hands move to the side of her stomach, while the other arm moves around her shoulders to hug her. At first the embrace is unexpected, but her acceptance is immediate.

The feeling she has reminds her of when they lived on the beach, those thirty-one days when it was only the two of them and they were afraid to admit to anything. Jack's nose is pressing into the crook where her neck meets her shoulder, his exhalations hot on her skin. She knows something is wrong; his behavior is off and she knows he won't admit anything to her yet. His secrecy makes her feel unwanted, but with the way he's holding her she feels anything but.

"I had a bad dream," his voice is muffled against her bare skin. His soft lips press on to her shoulder and she wonders if it's meant to distract her.

Kate kisses his jaw underneath his ear, "Do you remember what happened?" She hopes he doesn't, hopes that whatever is happening to her, is happening to him as well. That way she wouldn't feel so scared.

She feels his head nod against her skin as he moves to her neck and begins gently sucking at the skin. "Jack," she means for his name to be stern, but it comes out as more of a passionate sigh meant to encourage him. She blames it on the hormones.

Before she can object his lips close over her, and a wave of warmth surges through her body. She forgets about his nightmare and hers by deepening the kiss. Her hands move up to clasp around his neck as he situates one of his knees on either side of her. She begins to tug at his shirt, the same gray shirt he wore when he trekked across the island with her, and in a fraction of a second Jack's bare skin is hot underneath her fingers.

His hand moves from her hip, up the growing curves of her body until it rests on the swell of her breast. He makes a noise deep in his throat and she can't tell whether it's from passion, or from 

surprise. They've never talked about the fact that her breasts have grown at least a cup size bigger, maybe Jack never noticed, until now.

Kate smiles against his lips and runs a hand from his back up until she drags it through his hair. His hands make speedy work of her top, although she has to lean forward and he has to help her to so in order for him to pull the shirt over her head. She's staying away from buttons, they pop off at random now. As she drags her fingers over the deep scar on Jack's back from the day of the crash, she thinks that she's never been good at sewing.

Jack dips his head to kiss the freshly exposed skin on her chest. Goose bumps begin to grow on her skin at all the activity and as Jack begins to kiss between her breasts his hands slid down to her stomach. Suddenly she realizes that even though they both may want it, it isn't a good idea.

Ignoring the feather light kisses he's trailing around her chest, she touches the back of his head, "Jack?"

He stops and moves away from her, almost in a panic. He sits on his knees beside her, his worrying hazel eyes meeting hers, "is something wrong."

Using her elbows she sits up the best she can. With a shake of her head she explains, "We shouldn't be doing this."

Jack nods with understanding, "We don't have to if you don't want to."

"Believe me," she almost rolls her eyes at him, "I want to."

"Then why not?" he leans over, placing a hand on the mattress by her stomach for support.

"You really want to do it?" Kate realizes the answer as soon as she's asked the question.

Jack looks at her with shock, "Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I'm pregnant," she reminds him almost incredulously, "Which makes me—"

"Kate," he gives a stiff shake of his head in order to get her to stop. He looks uncomfortable for a few seconds, but he sighs and continues, "The dream I had last night was about me losing you." He moves a hand to cup her cheek and the expression he has holds the most fear she's ever seen.

"Jack—"

"I love you," the proclamation seemingly comes from nowhere. "I can't even think about what I would do if I lost you or the baby."

Kate wraps her arms around his neck as he holds onto her like his life depends on it. She does love him, but she can't get herself to say it aloud yet. She wants to, but she's been hurt by too many people that she's loved.

As if he can sense her turmoil Jack speaks against her shoulder again, "It's okay of you can't say it."

Nodding against his chest she tries to keep her mind from thoughts of her without Jack. She doesn't want to be without him either. It scares her and she knows exactly how he feels. She moves back and places a hand on each side of his face. She pulls him down on top of her, while kissing him with as much passion as she has. She understands him perfectly, and doesn't want to have not shared this with Jack.

"I'm not going anywhere," she speaks against his lips and feels his smile against hers.

* * *

_Next Chapter - Everything is explained. Well not everything. A lot is explained. Well, not a lot either. What happened in between the two chapters is explained...to an extent. And fangirls rejoice because it involve angry Dr. Jack._

Oh and Jack's 'dream' isn't a dream, it's referring to the shizz that went down between Chapters in a chapter I like to call 14.5 or 16. I was never good at Math.


	16. Cold

_A/N: Thanks for all your reviews and favorites and alerts and just generally reading this story so much. We're almost at 11,000 hits people. That's pretty amazing. Along with the fact that I'm still writing this story. Usually my phantom ADD kicks in and I can't concentrate enough to write a full chapter, but so far so good.  
I would also like the remind people that this chapter does take place chronologically before chapter 15 and chapter 17 will chronologically take place after chapter 15 (but after that everything is straightened out).  
And the next update may not be up for awhile (final exams/moving/work/beach holiday (I'm gonna look for a hatch). But I'll try my darndest to get that sucker up.  
Oh and Locke may seem OOC, but that's because he's a dirty stinkin' other. So he's got to act all emotionless and ugly. _

Left Behind

Chapter 16

Cold

Jack's breathe hitches in his chest as he stares at Kate's unmoving form. It's almost surreal, how fast she lost consciousness. When he reaches the number five in his head he takes in a deep inhalation because his chest is beginning to burn. His fingers shake as he reaches out and presses a finger into her neck. He counts in his head again as he stares at the second hand race around the face on his watch. The beats he finds are fine, regular in every way. Just as it was an hour ago.

Her skin resembles ice; a clear sheen of sweat covers her skin giving her an ethereal appearance. When his fingers check for a pulse or hold her hand more to comfort himself than her, it reminds him of when he was a kid and he would hold an ice cube in his hand until it melted. She's been the same way for more than an hour and it frightens him.

Her hand is small within his, her fingers are like curled icicles and he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't have any experience with enemy planned pregnancies on mysterious uncharted islands. Juliet didn't warn him about this, about what would happen at the end of the second trimester after the baby was kicking and concrete in his heart.

He spent hours reading over Juliet's notes on the procedure. He brought them when he went to talk to Claire. He brought them home and read them on the couch while Kate fell asleep beside him with a glass of powdered milk in her hand. There was always a chance that the procedure wouldn't take a percentage that at the sixth month she would be dead. It was never clearly defined in her notes, but the undertone was there. It took him less than ten minutes to figure out that wasn't the cause.

He had seen the same symptoms before. Back on the beach before the rescue and before the separation. The day he first brought Juliet back, Claire had the same symptoms that an injection cured. Later Juliet came to him and explained that it was all part of Ben's doing, that Claire had something implanted in her to make her react.

He was waiting for Locke. Waiting for Sawyer to find Locke. He wasn't sure he could trust him, but the look on Sawyer's face at Kate's frozen form was enough to confirm that he was on Jack's side. Or at least Kate's side.

He placed a hand on her stomach and sigh as a shiver of fear moved through him. The baby hadn't kicked for the last hour, at least not that he had felt and it was usually active in the afternoon. He worries that what Locke has activated within Kate is seriously harming the baby as much as it is her.

Beneath the fear residing inside of him, Jack also feels rage growing and he knows it's going to take all of his strength not to hit Locke when he first sees the other man. He needs to get Kate help first, he can and will deal with Locke when he knows she and the baby are healthy.

His eyes move over her motionless body to her face, stained a China doll white but missing the rosy cheeks. What was truly chilling, what that even in her state of unconsciousness, Kate's face isn't relaxed or even stoic. Her eyebrows still slant in agony and every few seconds her bottom lip twitches with a phantom pain.

The familiar crack of the door opening doesn't faze Jack, who is still focused on the ghostly appearance of the woman who lies in the bed before him. Only when the footsteps creak down the hall like rubber boots breaking a thin layer of ice does he release her hand and stand from the chair. His gaze turns to the doorway just in time to see Sawyer enter with Locke.

The older man's eyes quickly land on Kate's lifeless form before shooting to meet Jack's, "Jack—"

Jack shakes his head and feels the tension of his teeth grinding together punch at his temples, "No," he interrupts and takes a few steps forward, "I know you're working with the Others and I know you're doing this to Kate."

Locke squints his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. Smudges of Ben's blood from a few weeks ago are still stained into the bright white material of his shirt, "I'm not doing anything, Jack."

"You set up the fence and you're scrambling our messages to the freighter so we can't get off the island," he mimics Locke's posture, "You put something in Kate's food that's doing this to her, and you're the only one with the antidote."

The other man reaches behind his head and scratches, a nervous chuckle escapes from his mouth and the sunlight from the window highlights the scar over his eye, "Jack, I honestly don't—"

"You need to give me the antidote, "Jack keeps his voice level and void of rage even though the last thing he'd like to do is barter with Locke, "Whatever you put into the pancakes, Kate's having a severe reaction to it."

"What do you mean Doc?" Sawyer pushes himself away from the doorframe where he was leaning.

At his side, Jack's fingers twitch, itching to form a fist as he looks from Sawyer's concerned demeanor to Locke's indifferent one. His mouth is dry but he can taste the bitterness rising in his throat, "Kate's dying."

"No," Sawyer shakes his head and steps forward so he's standing beside Locke, "No she ain't. You're just not trying hard enough. You gotta do something."

"You think I'm not trying?" Jack's voice is loud now, echoing off the bare corners of the room, "She's got the same symptoms Claire had at the beach after the Other's activated her implant. The only way to stop it is with the shot."

Sawyer's face contorts, "What the hell are you talking about? What implant? What the hell—"

"Promise me you won't leave the Barracks until Kate is six months along," Locke's voice drowns out Sawyers. He's still standing perfectly still, his arms still crossed.

"What?" Jack knits his eyebrows and feels the blood coursing through his veins grow hot.

"I'll give you the antidote if you promise that Kate will not leave the Barracks until her sixth month of pregnancy," Locke elaborates, a shadow of a grin pull at the corners of his lips and it reminds Jack of Ben. Ben whose body he never saw.

Jack shakes his head in disbelief as he heavily breathes through his nose, "You wanted it this way all along."

"It's not a hard decision Jack."

With a deep sigh Jack turns back to the bed, Kate still lays unmoving. He remembers how she gasped for air just before she lost consciousness. How the blood from her nose stained his shirt. How he wiped the drying blood from her face and silently prayed for her to wake up. He's never counted to five so many times in his life, "If she dies," Jack points to her and ignores the churning in his stomach, "the baby dies and you still don't get what you want."

Locke's eyebrow slightly arches, his eyes widen a little, "Are you really going to let her die Jack? All because you wouldn't let her stay in the Barracks for another month?"

Jack stares at her figure, and the bump at her midsection that wrinkles the sheets, "Okay," he agrees, his eyes never leaving her and the comforting feeling he gets from seeing her chest still bob up and down, "We won't leave for another month."

When Sawyer sends him a dirty look, he doesn't respond. The Conman can't understand why they just didn't kill Locke where he stood. But Jack knows better, he knows that where there's one Other, there's bound to be more nearby and if Locke died, they would overpower the camp and take Kate the same way they took Aaron. In broad daylight, when everyone was alert.

Locke delivers the medicine within the hour, his grin devious like the ones carved on Halloween pumpkins because he knows he's won for now. Jack makes sure to lock the door when the man leaves his house.

Thoughts of betrayal run through Jack's head as he readies the shot. How he betrayed Kate, how Locke betrayed them. How he may have doomed their unborn child by making a deal with Locke. How all he wants to be able to do is relax for one day with Kate and know that nothing bad is going to happen. How he wants to hold his baby in his arms and not have to glance over his shoulder to see who is watching him.

Kate's skin is almost white when he lifts her shirt to reveal her stomach. Jack wonders if the baby has kicked at all, the worry begins to overpower the guilt and when he places a hand on her stomach he feels nothing but ice underneath his fingertips. The device makes a popping sound when he shoots the antidote into her stomach; the needle leaves a tiny pinhole that will heal to look like another freckle. He places a finger over the dot to stop the flow of blood and immediately a thump greets him.

A genuine laugh fills the room as Jack places his hand flat across Kate's stomach to feel the barrage of movements coming from within. With his spare hand, he pulls the discarded chair from earlier closer to the bed so he can sit with his hand still her stomach and he forgets about the rest of the day.

* * *

_Next Chapter - Some postcoital fluffiness, I mean if they really did it. Which they didn't. Yeah they did. But for serious they didn't. Or did they? _


	17. Sticky

_Okay so this is going to be really quick because I have work in like 3 seconds. Long time no see. Sorry. Explanation: Moving, job, vacation and another story. Short Chapter. More exciting next time._

Left Behind

Chapter 17

Sticky

"Dude, it went right through the window," Hurley's voice drifts through the mesh screen that shields the bedroom from the unwanted aspects of nature. A tear in the screen scratches against the flaking white paint on the windowpane as a sticky wind blows through the room.

Jack flinches with his eyes still closed before opening them to take in the early morning light. Through the open window he can see the sky still a lingering hue of red above the shadow of the tree line. He can hear footsteps as they fade into the distance and the bickering passing between Hurley and Sawyer.

Their conversation, or what small bits of it Jack retains in his transition from sleep to consciousness hold little priority in his mind as he groans and shifts under the covers. The room is muggy and stale with humid air, the wind doing little to circulate. The atmosphere creates a feeling of nausea which Jack knows the lack of sleep and stressful situations have added too. With another groan, and his eyes half closed with fatigue he manages to sit up in the bed.

Most of the bed sheets are crumpled in a pile lining the foot of the bed. Jack places a hand against his forehead, unsurprised by the layer of sweat coating his skin as his temples wildly pulse. He turns to his left to see if Kate is feeling anything from the heat. That's when he notices she's gone.

Stretching across the bed, he touches the area on the mattress where she slept last night and finds it cold, untouched within at least the last hour. Jack recoils his hand like he's touched and open flame, "Kate," he's aware of the panic streaking the loudness of his voice, but can't bring himself to care at the moment.

"Kate," he reaches for his discarded jeans on the floor and fumbles the denim legs turned inside out last night as he was quick to discard his clothing. He manages after taking a few seconds to properly pull on his pants but then begins to struggle with the buttons.

Less than a second before he would have bellowed her name again, the bathroom door in the corner of the room opened to release the fragrance of shampoo and chlorinated water along with the misty remains of the shower steams captured in the small room. Kate's standing between the doorway to the washroom and the bed, her hair sopping wet and drops of water still trailing down her legs. She's wearing a blue tinted dress shirt from the closet, the fringe stops halfway down her thigh and the last button is undone.

He stares at her a second, his fingers not bothering to do up the final button on his pants as she stares back with a look of terror in her wide eyes, "What's going on?"

"Nothing," he answers with a simple nod of his head as he flops back down to the edge of the bed.

She rolls her eyes as her still damp feet squeak across the floor, "So you just scream for no reason now?" Kate stops before him, her face concerned and confused as she takes one of his hands, "What happened?"

"Nothing," he repeats as the pad of his thumb moves over the back of her hand. He looks up into her eyes and notices how tired she is, "I just woke up, and you weren't here."

Kate moves closer to him, a reserved smile playing at the corners of her lips. Her hands wrap around his neck as she moves into the space between his legs, "You've got a vivid imagination, Jack," her voice is soft and completely devoid of any playfulness as her cheek rests on the top of his head.

The material on the shirt she chose is rough underneath his fingertips when his hand lands on her hip. He bows his heads so his forehead is pressing against the top of her stomach, "I just," he pauses and waits for a kick or some recognition from the life inside her, but it doesn't come. When he sighs against her, Kate's hand comes down to rest on the back of his head, "I just don't want—"

"I know," she interrupts, her voice bleak but he knows she understanding what he's getting at, "Me neither."

His arms move to hook around the small of her back and he doesn't have to see her face to know she's smiling the same smile she uses in order to keep from crying, "We can't leave the Barracks until you're six months along," he doesn't know where the confession comes from, but she has a right to know it. She needs to know it in case anything happens to him.

"What?" her hand stops brushing against the back of his head and in the silence a few straining drops of water from her hair tap against his arm.

"Something happened to you a few days ago," his voice is level but without forethought his arms squeeze her tighter, "You got very sick. And in order to save you I had to make a deal with Locke that we wouldn't leave until after your pregnancy reached six months."

"Why?" she pulls away from him a little, her eyebrows slanted with confusion.

"Kate, you were dying," The confession was blunt as his voice was not reassuring, "You were dying just like Claire was on the beach. It was the only thing I could do to make Locke give up the antidote."

The breath in her body left in a sharp burst as she exhaled and closed her eyes for a moment. He wondered what she was thinking, if she blamed him for what he knew Kate would have done for him but he also knew he would be disappointed in her if she had made the same decision as him. "I don't want them to get the baby."

Jack nodded, his hands still resting on the small of her back. She glanced down at him and swallowed hard, trying to draw strength from some unseen force, "They're not going to get the baby."

"No," Jack shook his head as he felt her body give a slight shudder at the thought, "They're not."

* * *

_Next Chapter - Another one bites the dust!  
_


	18. Light

_A/N: Hey guys. Thanks for the reviews on the tiny bit-sized chapter. I'm glad you enjoyed the dire fluffiness of it. As I said in the last "Next Chapter" someone will indeed bite the dust. more will be explained next chapter. And I only seem to write thoroughly on the hiatuses. On that note please ignore all the tense mistakes in the last chapter (I'm currently working on another story which is past tense and I'm bad at crossing over (with John Edwards).  
That said please enjoy and review!_

Left Behind

Chapter 18

Light

Heaving a deep breath in, Jack swipes a toweled hand across the mirror to cut through the thin layer of filmy condensation covering the surface. He's not used to the shower, or the strong sulfur smell that accompanies the water for the first ten minutes or how Kate can smell it on him for days afterwards which makes him wait until after it dissipates to actually enter the shower. The room is muggy and almost unattached from the house to begin with, factor in the layer of low hanging fog into a room that's closet size and it becomes an uncomfortable situation.

A waft of cool air hits his body like a giant snowball as he opens the door to their bedroom and he knows Kate found out how to work the air conditioner. In the back of his mind he's mildly concerned about both of them catching colds since he's sure she has it set to arctic temperatures. Taking a step out to the hardwood, his feet squeak against the ground as the watery remains of her first steps out of the bathroom after her shower causes his grip to be faulty.

After two or three steps in the same spot, he manages to regain his balance and elicit a giggle from Kate who's standing a few feet away in front of the mirror that runs wall length. In the last few days he's found that her green eyes lighten in the afternoon and he grins at her when he sees her watching him and trying to hide her face against her shoulder. But her reflection draws back her attention.

"What are you doing?" he asks with a chuckle as he searches one of the drawers in the dresser for a clean pair of socks.

Kate turns so her profile is clearly outlined in the bright light of midday. She's still wearing the blue dress shirt she found a few weeks ago. Bashfully glancing back, Kate shakes her head and her lips purse with reservation, "Nothing."

Jack feels his smile pull wider as he turns away from his quest to find socks to watching Kate watch herself, "You're pretty fixated on something."

"It's just," her head turns so her eyes meet his, then her attention returns to her reflection. With her hands falling to her stomach and then expanding so she's covering as much of the area as she can, Kate turns back to him with the beginnings of a pout and her chin resting against her shoulder, "I miss being skinny."

Before he can fully register her comment, Jack's laughing harder than he thinks he should be. Only after a dull ache forms in his lower back does he even attempt to stop. Kate's glare seems to cut through any of the major hilarity and he decides he should probably compose himself, "I'm sorry," his speech interrupted by a deep inhalation, "but with everything we've had to deal with is being skinny really that important?"

"Not for you," she snaps as she turns to look at her reflection again, "It feels weird to walk, like I'm wearing a backpack on the front of me. I can't see my feet anymore and it's getting hard to wash them."

Taking a few steps forward he notices her pants and shoes in a pile a few feet to the left of her in the corner of the room. "Is that why you're not dressed?" Jack smiles with comprehension as he asks the questions.

An irritated grunt escapes her as she sends a two second glance to her clothing, "I can't bend over, it hurts my back. And I can't put on my shoes."

"Kate," he shakes his head and covers the last few steps between them, "I can help you with that stuff."

Her hands press tighter to hide the bump as her eyebrows furrow, "You shouldn't have to."

"I know you want to do it," he pries at her hands until she allows them to be taken away from her protruding stomach, "But instead you get to have a baby."

With the corner of her bottom lip stuck between her teeth she nods in defeat and allows him to lead her to the edge of the bed so he can help her dress, "I miss climbing trees," she expresses with a forlorn sigh as he brings over her blue jeans and sneakers.

"We don't need to climb trees though," he reminds as he slips her foot into the first pant leg, "We have all the food we need."

After her second foot moves through the proper opening Kate reaches down and grabs for the belt loops on her pants and succeeds in pulling them up to the top of her legs, "Climbing trees is fun for me," she grunts as she leans back and struggles to get them to the bottom of her stomach, "What if someone told you that you couldn't be a doctor anymore?"

"If being a doctor could result in the death of our unborn baby I would stop immediately," his eyes are directed at one of her sneakers while his fingers thread through the knot. Hoping for some sort of agreement from Kate, he glances up to see the end of an irritated eye roll, which pulls at the corners of his lips. "I have to go see Claire after this," he informs as he places her right foot into the proper shoe, "You're going to be okay right?"

"Why can't I come too Jack? Maybe seeing me might be good for her," Kate's usual arguing of the subject comes earlier and inside Jack worries about her inability to answer the question on her security, "Maybe she can warn us about things we don't know yet."

Jack's brain silently notes that Kate's right ankle is swelling, it's almost unnoticeable but it should be examined later in case the swelling grows. He shakes his head as his dexterous hands knot the shoelaces once again. "She lost her son Kate, it's been over a month and she's only gotten worse."

"Jack, I could help her," she pleads as he works with the laces on the other shoe. The bed jostles with the movement of Kate trying to sit up or gain his attention. When he shows no means of caving she falls back on the bed and to her next plan. One he's ready for. "Besides if you leave me here alone I might fall over and not be able to get up."

Placing the second shoe on her foot he raises an eyebrow and questions, "I'm sorry are you pregnant or drunk." The slight smile at the end of the sentence is meant for her to know that he's joking, but she takes offense to her inability to be independent.

The grated sole of her shoe presses down into his hand as he's trying to tie the gray laces together and when his eyes glance up over her knees, he finds her figure staring back down at her. Her green eyes darkened with determination and a few damp strands of her hair framing her face. The shampoo she used fills the room with a fresh aroma and he drums his fingers against the soft skin of her ankle. He knows he's going to cave.

"I could help her, Jack," Kate presses as his nimble fingers move against the grainy laces once again. As if Kate can sense his question before he opens his mouth she answers, "Maybe I could connect with her. Maybe she could help us make sure that the baby doesn't end up like Aaron."

As the last knot is tied, Jack sighs and places his empty hands against Kate's knees. "Seeing you could upset her," the statement is blunt but completely honest.

"If she gets angry I'll leave," her hands fall to his shoulders and lightly press down as she uses him for support. Her grin is sly when they meet eye to eye because she knows she's already won.

With a sigh of surrender, he rises with her, "Fine, but of this doesn't go well you're not coming next time."

After a few minutes spent packing and a last minute bathroom break they leave the house and slowly start on the path to Claire's. The afternoon sun is still glowing high in the sky and Jack sends a squinted sideways glance towards Kate who's ambling along beside him. She has a prominent waddle now, which is only fair because she has a prominent bump but it's definitely causing both of them to walk with sluggish steps.

"I was thinking," Jack smiles against the sun when he realizes he's in no rush. He blindly reaches out and manages to catch her hand within his, "I was thinking about names."

"No," Kate immediately shakes her head with wide eyes and a serious expression. They stop walking and face each other with their hands limply hanging between them, "Sun said it's bad luck to talk about baby names this early."

"Kate you're twenty-two weeks along, that's more than halfway and that's if you carry to full term," He chuckles and pulls on her hand guiding her back down the dirt path. Tiny clouds of dust rise from her dragging shoes and she's favoring her left foot. "I just thought we could talk about names we like or don't like."

Kate sends a glance of hesitation to her right and into the jungle as if they even talk about talking about names some unseen evil is going to approach them, "If it's a girl I don't want to name her after anyone."

His eyebrows rise slightly, the revelation indicating that she has thought of names, "What happens if it's a boy?"

"If it's a boy," her licks her lips trying to conceal her growing smile, "I thought we could name him Sam after my dad."

"Samuel Shephard," Jack nods as his mind dissects the name, "I like it."

"And I thought since we named him after my dad," she pauses and her hand that isn't contained in his finds its way to the top of her stomach, "his middle name could be your dad's."

"Samuel Christian Shephard. My dad would have loved it." He chuckles until they both fall silent. "What about girls' names?"

Kate shrugs and her posture changes into one of discomfort, "I haven't really thought of girls' names that much."

Claire's house appears around the secluded bend and tucked closer to the trees. Jack stops walking causing Kate to stop as well, "You don't want a girl?"

With her lips pressed together, her voice becomes harder, like he's accused her of something drastic, "I don't really have that mother-daughter dynamic." Kate lets out a dry laugh and shakes her head, "Why do you want a girl."

"No more than a boy," he lies through his teeth.

Kate nods and he can tell she's seen right through him, "We should stop talking about this."

"Yeah," his voice drips of sarcasm, "We wouldn't want any bad luck—"

From behind him a deafening sound rips through the surrounding area, followed by a bright light which consumes and blinds him. As he struggles to reach Kate in his sightlessness only the scent of fire and an agonizing pain ripping through his shoulder and back accompany him into darkness.

* * *

_Next Chapter -_ _Carnage cleanup on aisle Othertown!_


	19. Boom

_A/N - Sorry for the lack of updates. If the paid writers get a hiatus, why can't I right? This is where I would grin cheekily to stop you from throwing tomatoes and in some cases pitchforks and Molotov cocktails. I'm currently writing stories for four fandoms, factor in massive amounts of school work and original fics and you have a very overloaded Shiggity that resembles a pack mule. Please ignore any form errors, I'm not savvy in the ways of the new . But Grammatical and other errors are all mine, so feel free to yell your head off. And as always, please enjoy. _

Left Behind

Chapter 19

Boom

Her head feels like it's in a vice grip. An agonizing migraine surging from her temples to the back of her head making her feel lightheaded and completely awake at the same time. She doesn't have the strength or gall to open her eyes that light up like the fourth of July celebration is taking place inside her head. Kate's body remains still as she draws in shallow breaths while her stomach twists into a knot causing the back of her throat to tingle .

Something presses lightly into her shoulder, jostling, causing the vociferous ringing in her ears to ascend to the next level of volume. A weak groan escapes her as she raises a hand to bat the object away like a kitten batting at a piece of string. Only when she comes in contact with it, she knows it's human. A new panic streaks through her as the memories of The Others and Locke come rushing back. The baby, they want her baby.

Kate pulls away from the hand, struggling against it with her eyes still closed and burning. She can hear a muddled voice washed over with the constant ringing and tries again to push away. As she slides herself against the ground a hand harshly clamps down on her shoulder eliciting a squeak from her throat and her hand to become a fist.

She blindly swings, but her hand is caught with ease and forced back down to her side. She twists to regain control but in her weakened condition it's fruitless and only tiring her out. Giving in, she stops flailing and with a deep inhalation opens her eyes, unafraid of what might be waiting for her.

Her eyes trace their way to her wrist and the hand clamped there, the dirt-caked fingernails and bruised knuckles, and then to the irate face of Sawyer, who's holding her in place. His mouth moves but the words are still not fully formed to her ears. She stares at him with a blank expression of surprise as her mind works to recreate the puzzle of what happened before she woke up.

Sawyer stares back down at her, his angled, angry eyebrows fall into slants as he shakes his head and she makes out the words, "Jesus Freckles."

As she tries once again to move, she realizes for the first time that she's lying on her side between random pieces of flaming siding from a house. Her eyes water as the pain in her head resurfaces causing her to fall back against a patch of grass a yard or so from the dirt path.

A few seconds later, she feels Sawyer's arms hook underneath hers as he gently pulls her up into a sitting position. She groans something she can't even hear and feels the gritty palm of his hand on the side of her face, drawing her attention back to him. His thumb rubs on the curve on her cheek bone as he stares at her for a moment longer, "Doc, said to check your eyes."

Jack. Blinking, she turns her head away from Sawyer in an attempt to find Jack, but all she can see is dark clouds of smoke and random pieces of debris on fire. Like there's something caught in her throat she coughs, "Where's—"

"He's fine," Sawyer's voice is harsh with something she can't define as he examines a cut on the side of her face, "He's on the other side, with his arm pinned underneath the fridge."

Her eyebrows crease in confusion and the action hurts her head. She presses a hand against her temple, "What?"

"Head hurt Freckles," he ignores her question and shifts around to the side of her. She feels his fingers touch just above her ear before moving to the back of her head. His voice changes, low and concerned, "hit it off something pretty good."

"The baby," she doesn't notice the blood covering his hand as he pulls back around to meet her face to face, "Is the baby okay?"

"You gotta tell me that one," he answers and watches as she places her hands on her stomach, "Jack told me to ask you if you got any," he pauses and looks away, "you know."

"Any what?" Kate pushes her fingers into her stomach, hoping for some sign of life. Nothing responds to her and suddenly she feels the acrid taste rises to the back of her mouth again. When he fails to answer she turns her attention back to him and in a stern, almost crazed voice that she's sure isn't her own repeats, "Any what!"

Sawyer mutters something to himself, his eyes still avoiding her entire body as she stares with shock at her stomach, "cramps, he wants to know if you're having any cramps."

"It's not moving," Kate can feel the blood drain from her face even though her heart is pumping like a bass drum in her ears.

Sawyer watches her watch her stomach, her hands almost like talons trying to elicit some form of recognition from the being inside, "What do you mean it ain't moving?"

"I mean it hasn't done anything," she glances up at Sawyer's green eyes covered in a glaze of pain and anxiety, "not even a little jump."

He glances over his shoulder, the small cut on his eyebrow hardly noticeable in the thickening air, "We gotta get you to the Doc."

When his rough palm lands on her forearm again she tears it away and ignores his puzzled look, "I'm not moving until the baby moves."

"This ain't junior high Freckles," he shakes his head and for a moment, she thinks that he might actually try to force her from her position. Kate can see the flare of rebellion fade from his eyes, "Are you having any?"

"Any what," her voice is quiet, like if she listens really closely she might be able to hear her baby.

Groaning with some unidentified feeling he elaborates, "For Christ Sake's Freckles, cramps. Are you having any damn cramps."

"No," Kate squints her eyes, maybe there's just something wrong with her fingertips, maybe they just can't feel the kicks. Sometimes she can see them.

"Then let's get going so the Doc can get a better look at you."

Kate simply shakes her head, ignoring all the rushed panic and hidden fear in his voice, "If I move I might cause cramps."

"Well Freckles, you ain't sitting here for the next four months," Sawyer waits, his long arms draped over his folded legs, the tips of his fingers rubbing against her blue jeans.

"Give me your hand," with an empty voice Kate reaches forward for his right hand with hers, while her left starts to undo the lowest buttons on the singed blue dress shirt.

Immediately, he rips his hand away, "Jesus Freckles, you must've hit your head real hard."

"The baby doesn't respond to me, it never does," she divulges, her voice coming out in huffs as she struggles to unbutton the last few buttons. "When it kicks and kicks, the only thing that stops it is Jack. He's usually the one who starts it up too."

"Well I ain't Jack," diverting his eyes once again, Sawyer's comment sounds almost jealous.

Kate forcefully snatches his right hand by the wrist, and stares right into his clear blue eyes, "We'll you're not me, so I figure what the hell." When she lets go of his wrist, Sawyer sighs, then mumbles something indistinguishable among all the ruckus as he lets his hand fall to her showcased swollen stomach. His face contorts, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squeezed tightly shut, "it's not that gross."

"I ain't enjoying this one bit," his eyes open, but dart to a different focusing point, "and I ain't feeling anything."

"Just give it one more minute," Kate's voice is small again as with every passing second the reality she doesn't want to believe is becoming truer.

Sawyer groans again, and chances a glance back to Kate, who is still watching her stomach. Following her eyesight he sees his tanned, dirt streaked hand, fingers confined against her pale yet freckled stomach. In an action he doesn't try to stop, his fingers spread trying to cover the expanse but finds he's nowhere close. A darkening feeling starts to creep around inside of him as he knows he's going to pull his hand away and deliver Kate back to the Doc with soot and tear stained cheeks. Then as his mind wanders in the most horrible of thoughts a powerful thump hits his middle finger in protest.

"What the hell," Sawyer rips his hands away and finds himself short of breath. The movement didn't hurt, just surprised, like the nip of a provoked fish.

Kate lets out a sob and replaces his hand with hers, "It kicked," tears gather in the corners of her eyes as she takes a moment to look away from her abdomen to beam at him. In a quieter voice she repeats, "It kicked."

* * *

_Next Chapter - We meet a mild mannered doctor named Jack who had the glum prediciment of being a document pushpinned. But instead of a document he was a humand and instead of a pushpin it was a refridgerator. Also Hurley and Sawyer and Kate. Oh and what the hell happened. _


	20. Broken

_A/N - Another long hiatus I know. I apologize and hope that you will still enjoy the story. _

Left Behind

Chapter 20

Broken

The pain he should feel in his right shoulder is absent, though a refrigerator pins him to the ground. Jack tries to crane his head to see around the hailing debris and rising smoke. "Where is she?"

"Dude, I still don't know," One of Hurley's stumpy legs thrusts underneath the charred appliance in some dull hope to appease pain that Jack doesn't feel, "Can you pull your arm out if I lift the fridge a little more?"

"Has Sawyer found her yet?" The avoidance may be from the shock, or maybe the ringing in his ears is distracting him from Hurley's plan. A brief picture of being released and finding Kate's burning body flashes in his head and he knows the reason why he isn't too eager to be free.

As Hurley arranges himself to force another foot under the fridge he grunts, "I don't know, Dude. I've been here the whole time trying to get this thing off of you," Flexing his feet for some leverage he only gains a few inches.

"Just wait for Sawyer to bring her back." His eyes haven't left the rest of the clearing and despite all the fires and smoke his eyes barely blink. Half of a blue couch lands only a few feet away with a loud thud, the arm on fire and the insides blackened. Jack doesn't flinch, even when he recognizes the piece of furniture.

"It's hard to hold a baby with one arm," Hurley bends at the waist as much as his girth will allow, and slips his fingers underneath the edge of the appliance. At first it only teeters on Jack's arm, "Jack, come on," With his position, Hurley's mouth is close to Jack's ear and his voice is anything but quiet, "What if the Others come?"

"What?" Jack tries to sit up and for the first time, feels the full amount of steel crushing his arm.

"Explosions," Hurley grunts as he struggles to move the fridge again. His face grows redder with each passing second, "They attract the Others, like moths to a flame."

A cool clarity sweeps Jack's body and his mind reboots. He remembers the exact situation, "Help me with this," he pushes with his torso and his legs as Hurley changes his direction. Their attempts are meager at first, the fridge still only toddles and the heated metal springs seer into his arm. With a final grunt from both men, the refrigerator lazily somersaults over and Jack's arm is free.

"Is it broken?" Hurley is panting from the strenuous activity, his hands clutching his ankles as his open mouth gulps in tainted air.

Jack cradles his arm to his chest, careful not to upset the pressure pushing down on his shoulder. Pressure he felt before in a cave over two hundred days ago when the ceiling caved in and a boulder pinned him down. He wonders if Kate still has the sling. "My shoulder's dislocated."

"Again?" The word is followed by a harsh exhalation and Jack laughs at his friend's distress.

"Come on," Jack nods towards the rest of the clearing which looks like a battlefield, "We need to find Kate and Sawyer."

"Dude," Hurley placed a heavy hand on Jack's uninjured shoulder when he tries to stand, "Maybe you should take it easy for a few minutes."

"Kate might not have a few minutes," he argues and rises again to stand. The assumed problem with balancing is clear, he feels like he's wearing stilts and his brain is reeling from a bad case of vertigo, but he's going to sort through the field until he finds her. Piece by piece and one foot at a time if that's what it takes him.

"Hey," Hurley points to the open field as Jack places a hand on his back for stability, "Isn't that Claire's couch?"

Jack nods and blinks his eyes three times to clear up his blurred vision, "Locke blew up Claire's house."

"What," Hurley springs up, knocking Jack off balance and stabilizing him again. He's quiet as his solemn eyes scan the field, after a few moments he mutters, "Then where is Claire?"

"Kate and I were on our way to her house to talk," Jack takes his first steps, cautious and planned like a newborn deer, "We were on the path and her house exploded."

Hurley passes Claire's headboard, and swallows hard, "Why would Locke want to kill her."

"Because she was telling me things," Jack answers as he begins to feel the guilt build up inside of him, "Things about the Others and what happened when they took Aaron."

"So Locke really is the new King of the Others?" Hurley is behind him as they walk through the charred remains of Claire's house. Aaron's crib that Locke built is five feet away and burning like an oil lamp.

Jack tries not to grind his teeth when debris throws his footing and jostles his shoulder, "It's really starting to look that way."

Pursing his lips, Hurley nods once in a silent agreement with Jack that shows his loyalty to the doctor, "How's your arm? You don't need me to pop it back in, right?"

"Sawyer can do it," Jack reassures knowing Hurley's dislike for medical problems, "He'll enjoy it more than you."

Hurley doesn't reply, so they continue to walk through the remains of Claire's house as Jack's heart overexerts every minute that he doesn't see Kate. "So Claire blew up like Arzt?" The question is unrefined but viable.

When Jack turns to see the full amount of hurt in his friend's eyes he understands that because Claire will never be found, neither will closure over her death. Slowly, with a frown hooking at his own lips, Jack shakes his head, "I'm sorry Hurley."

"I just wish she could've been happy before she died," Hurley wipes at the corner of his glistening eyes, "I mean she never did anything to Locke and now Aaron will never know his mother." He pauses and looks at a smoldering sweater at his feet, "I promised," His lower lip begins to tremble, "I promised Charlie that I'd look after her."

"Hurley," Jack tries to smile, but it comes off as crooked, "We all did everything we could for her, and no one here is responsible for her death except Locke."

Hurley answers, his hair blocking his face as he still stares at his feet, "We're going to get Locke. He's going to pay."

Instead of being reassured by his friend's intentions and devoted alliance, Jack feels a new concern begin to surface from the harshness of Hurley's words and tone. He's never known the man to speak in such a way which makes the confidant words turn eerie.

"Hey Doc," A familiar voice hollers over the ringing and crackling of the clearing. Through the clouds of smoke, Sawyer emerges slowly with an arm thrown around Kate's waist, "Special delivery."

The next breath Jack takes is clear of smoke and fire, of death and despair because he can see her. Her clothing is covered in charcoal marks and a large cut adorns her face, but she is less than a few yards before him and crying at the sight of him. He takes off running, the doctor in him being silenced by the lover and father in him. He can hear Hurley amble behind him, but doesn't wait, because he needs her. He needs to hear her voice and feel the baby kick.

Before either of them say a word he embraces her, he has to tell himself to slow down or the hug would have been a quarterback's tackle. The pain in his unsupported dislocated arm is dizzying, but so easy to ignore as he focuses on her. He has to lean slightly into her because of her stomach but he can still feel her lips smile against the side of his neck and the way her body shakes as she muffles sobs.

"You're okay," he whispers as he kisses her temple. She smells like ashes and copper when his nose reaches her hair. Through the thin material of their clothing, the baby kicks from within her stomach to hit his and they laugh tears.

Jack is the first to pull away, the doctor in him has subdued the others and is demanding to take a look at her injuries, "Where are you hurt?" he questions while his thumb runs over the cut that runs just under her temple to the start of her jaw.

Kate flinches and closes her eyes at the action. His thumb stops, "Sorry."

"It's fine," her voice sounds tired and dry but she still smiles at him as they share the same relief.

"She conked her head pretty bad off something," Sawyer interjects from where he stands beside Hurley kicking at some debris.

"Where," Jack watches as her eyes dart to the side, still ashamed to need help.

"Here," Her hand flutters to the back of her head and returns with light smudges of blood.

"Turn."

"Jack, your arm," she reaches for the bruising near his shoulder and stops his movement.

His left hand clumsily catches hers, "Later."

"You should listen to him Kate," Locke appears from the tree line unscathed from the explosion, "You might have a concussion."

* * *

_Next Chapter - Injuries are dealt with and a plan is formed. And Jack may or may not pummel Locke with his unhinged arm. _


	21. Authentic

_A/N - Good news, there's an update! Bad news, I added it at three in the morning when I was extremely tired, so there's probably a lot of spelling/tense/grammatical errors that I missed during rewrite. So I apologize. Also thanks to everyone who read the last chapter. There was over 800 of you! And EXTREME HAPPY SPECIAL THANKS to those four people who reviewed. You guys are the reason I took another chance with this story. So I promise to keep writing if you keep reviewing (it's fair right?). I'm so glad so many people cared about this little story._

_UPDATES may be lagging, since I have two jobs and another story that has to be updated before this one is again. But I will try my darndest.  
_

Left Behind

Chapter 21

Authentic

Before she realizes who the contour causing the smoke to curl is, Jack is already blocking her, his sturdy body standing directly in front of her to shield her from Locke's examining eyes. "I hope there were no serious injuries," his voice is casual and she imagines the smile pulling at his eyes and the sinister scar cut into his cheek.

"You killed Claire," Jack states and she watches as all the muscles in his back go ridged.

Long fingers still crusted in dirt wrap around her bicep, "Freckles," Sawyer's voice is barely above a whisper, but his eyes are threatened like this is his last stand, "Come on." He pulls at her arm again like an impatient guide dog as she nods to Jack.

"Hugo's gonna stay with him," he pulls her a few precarious steps forward, then his hold slowly relaxes until his touch is gentle. "We need to get you away from the smoke."

"Okay," she replies half sure. She just found Jack, and she doesn't want to leave him, but her back is beginning to sting along with her feet and her headache has only grown in pain. She takes a few steps away as Jack's face grows red from the fury building inside of him. Hurley doesn't speak when Locke addresses him and Jack's reply is venomous.

Sawyer leads her to the dirt path again, still worn but now fractured by Claire's house. She knows the girl is dead, that she was sleeping when it happened and didn't feel a thing, but nothing will offer much solace to the situation. Kate swallows her fears and the guilt she's feeling for caring about her baby more than Claire at the moment is weighing heavy on her conscience.

"You okay?" Sawyer arches an eyebrow through his soot covered forehead as he directs his long strides to slow to a pace she can keep up with.

Kate places a hand on her stomach, it's not quite as big as a basketball, but still big enough to hurt her back. She doesn't know how much weight she's gained, or how wide she is. She doesn't really know anything about her pregnancy, a fact that she seems to only notice now.

"Freckles," Sawyer beckons her from a few yards away, "You gonna sit there rubbing your Buddha belly all day?"

She can feel the tears begin to gather in her eyes, and her teeth bite hard into her lower lip to distract her from the surge of emotions she's feeling, "I only have two more weeks Sawyer," she shrugs as the first two tears trek down her cheeks, "If I don't do it now—"

He pulls her hand away from her stomach by the wrist, "You're going to be fine Freckles," his voice is soft, but he's grunting his words through gritting teeth because she won't listen to him.

"How do you know?" She wrenches her arm, but his grip holds steady.

"I know because Jacko's gonna find you a way off this island," He drags her toward the houses again, though she's less hesitant than before, "And Hugo and I are going to help him."

"How?"

"Don't worry about that," the path forks with a walkway leading up to what Kate assumes is his house. It's in much better condition than most others; the shutters are even painted a bright blue color and the door seems to be stable on its hinges.

He walks up the three steps which are maintained and covered with white paint, but pauses at the door, "Jesus Freckles, try to keep up."

She keeps one hand on the top of her stomach as her eyebrows drop to form a questioning glare, "How do I know that I can trust you?"

His hand grows tighter around the doorknob, his knuckles glowing white but there isn't a tick in his facial expression. After a few seconds pass, he realizes that she's not joking and he rolls his eyes, "Why wouldn't you?"

Half shrugging her shoulders, Kate directs her gaze to the few flowers adorning the patch of dirt around the porch , "You might be an Other." The feeling lingered since returning to the Barracks, him rescuing her from the rubble only made it more concrete.

"You think I'm an Other?" His eyebrows fall into a genuine look of hurt as he walks down the first step.

"You live with them."

His dusty sneakers fall on the next stair, "You think I want to take the baby?"

"I don't know what you want," Her questions and answers are too authentic. Two hundred and twenty-two days ago she would have lied about everything from her name and age to her music preferences. Things have changed so drastically as her independence fades because two hundred and twenty-two days ago when flight 815 crashed, she wasn't pregnant.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Descending the last stair in one step, his words grow heated again.

"I don't know James," the baby begins to stir with quick, constant movements, "When I got here you screamed at me and now you want to save me." She rubs her stomach where the baby is jarring, "Why the sudden change?"

His lips purse then pucker while in contemplation. His hands stick to his hips and for the first time, Kate can see the gun tucked into his waistband. "It's the only thing I'm ever going to be able to do for you and," he pauses and points to her stomach, "our kid."

Placing a hand to the back of her head to check her forgotten injury she finds that it no longer exudes blood. The action is meant more for a distraction, "James, this is not your baby."

"Look," his hands fly up in defense, "I know that you and Jacko have a thing now, and I ain't got no problem with him—"

"No," she interrupts, "This baby is not biologically yours."

Jabbing a finger at her stomach stutters, "So, you and Jack—"

"That is none of your business," her mouth is wide and her laughter incredulous.

"It is if there's a chance that this kid is mine."

The baby still pokes at her side, "When you woke up in the polar bear cages did you have a bandage on your arm?"

"What?" brushing past him, she ignores his outburst as the stairs squeak underneath her weight. "What the hell are you talking about Freckles?" He trails her quickly, "I think you hit your head harder than—"

"Just answer the question and I'll answer yours," he barely has time to open the door before she charges through. "Did they take blood from you?"

"No," the door slams behind him, "other than being locked in a damn cage, I was just peachy."

She finds the futon in his living room, a tweed mattress on a teak frame, and collapses rattling the pictures on the walls. "This baby is not yours. It's one hundred percent Jack's." The words are harsh, but the point needs to be clear.

The room is silent without his reply and for a moment, she considers leaving, but the pressure burning at her heels is still evident and the twitches within her are still persistent. "Let me take a look at your head," his voice is much softer with either relief or regret.

Kate nods, not knowing what to say as she doesn't know his true reaction. Shifting on the couch he moves behind her with a bottle of water and a white rag. The mattress sinks with his weight and his fingers are rough against her neck. "It stopped bleeding," his voice causing stiff shots of warm air to hit her skin.

Before any further interactions can occur, they jerk away from each other and to the opposite ends of the futon, "Any other hurts?" he drapes his long arms over his bent legs, expression and voice still stoic.

"I think the baby has hiccups," there's no forethought behind her words as the movements have been a pleasant enough distraction.

"You want me to scream real loud to scare it?"

"No," she laughs and the baby bobs, "I could use some aspirin though."

"I'll see what I got."

The absence allows her a moment to take in his house. The living room is painted a bright yellow color much like the exterior, a few pictures hang on the wall behind the couch, but at her angle, they're invisible. A bookcase stands slanted in the corner and overcrowded with waterlogged and dog-eared books. Beside her on the end table is a People magazine from the late seventies and an opened can of Dharma beer.

"Kate," Jack's voice calls from outside as plodding footsteps transfer from the path to the stairs.

Pushing a palm into the mattress, she tries to find the teak skeleton for a sturdy support, while the other drills into the table. When she tries to raise, the pain in her back and feet returns in a stiff shot and a gasp escapes her mouth.

"Hey," Jack, still cradling his arm stops beside her, "What's wrong."

"My feet," she grunts as her hand fruitlessly reaches for her sneakers, "and my back."

"Doc," Sawyer shakes the bottle of aspirin, "That arm don't look so good."

"Yeah," Jack's chuckle is strained between his teeth, "I figured you wouldn't mind popping it back in for me."

"What, I gotta take care of both of you now?"

"Won't be for much longer," under the black smears on his face, she can see the whites of his eyes, and she doesn't want to know what happened with Locke.

"What d'ya mean?" Sawyer asks before she can.

"Because we're leaving in three days."

* * *

_Next Chapter - Jack has a dasterdly plan, which will come into effect in three days. Also more of the injuries are treated. It's hard to treat everyone when you have a page limit and alternating POV's for each chapter. _

Please be kind and rewind....After you review.


	22. Doubt

_A/N: Oh boy. So I'm back and you're obviously mad because I haven't been updating. How about we skip the whole argument and get to the part where you enjoy reading a new chapter and I get out of being yelled at. I'd also like to take this time to point out that in this story I managed to pick out the final people in the actual show (I mean as of episode 6x14. Think about it. Jack, Kate, Hurley, Sawyer, Crazy Locke, __Lapidus (?) __and Claire before I blew her up). That thought is actually what made me continue writing this story. On that topic I may not be 100% canonical to my story, because yes I did reread it, and yes I do have an immaculate memory, but I'm not a deity. So please be understanding. _

Left Behind

Chapter 22

Doubt

"Ow," Kate wrenches away from him again, bowing her head so the dim living room light showcases the cut he's trying to clean.

Sighing a semi-irritated staccato burst of air through his nostrils, he places his good hand on the coffee table beside him while waiting for her to relax again. He isn't trying to hurt her. He knows that she knows he isn't trying to hurt her, but every few minutes she pulls back from him and it's only making the task more difficult.

"Sorry," she says for the fifth time with a sheepish smile. The rag in his hand is beginning to dry and every second that passes the chances of infection grow.

He's exhausted, pain is drilling into his shoulder and his right arm hurts even when he wiggles his fingers. They only have a day to finalize their plans, before they make a break for it and the worry induced stress empowers his headache.

"Jack," her fingertips ghost over his knee and he thinks he can actually see the cut swelling up on her face, "Are you okay?"

When he gazes into her eyes, they're shiny but tired and she pulls her lips into a hopeful half smile just for him. The hand that isn't on his knee is resting atop her stomach and if he's exhausted, he can't imagine how Kate feels.

"I'm fine," the response is automatic and to him it sounds a little sarcastic. He doesn't want it to be sarcastic, so when he stands to rewet the rag in the kitchen sink he kisses the top of her head so she doesn't think he's her fault.

His walk to the kitchen is almost an amble, no rush, no attention paid to things that are in the way, socks with dirt clods clinging to the bottom shuffling over the carpet. He's barely holding on to the cloth with one hooked finger. He's thinking about how at this time tomorrow night, Sawyer's going to break into Locke's house and get the security code for the fences. How he and Hurley are going to unscramble the radio signal why Kate distracts Locke. How she's going to do it in a clearing away from any of the houses where bombs can be rigged.

He doesn't think about what will happen if after almost three extra months Lapidus doesn't come and get them. It's always 'when' Lapidus will come with Kate, because he needs her to believe, but in his own mind, he's starting to get more pessimistic. He also forces himself not to think about the consequences of missing the plane. It keeps him up at night.

If they do make it back to civilization, what is going to happen then? Is Kate going to go to jail? Is it going to have a nursery in it, or are they just going to give it to him and tell him to come back for her in a few years? Does she have any next of kin that can contest custody against him? She never talks about her parents or anything personal. She's never mentions anything about her parents that sounds remotely recent. They're going to want biological proof of relation if he wants the baby and what if Juliet was wrong and Ben was lying. What if this is Sawyer's baby.

"Jack," cool fingers on his good arm drag him out of rumination. Before he can answer her, she's leaning over, chest and stomach pressing into his bicep as she turns off the faucet. Reaching into the sink she pulls out the rubber stopper and lets the chain dangle from a finger, "The sink was plugged. It almost overflowed."

"Sorry," he mumbles while watching a good amount of water swirl down the drain.

"You are not okay."

Wringing the cloth out he listens to the drops of water hit the metal sink, hoping that concentrating on the here and now will bring him back into the proper state of mind. "I'm just," he doesn't know what to tell her. He doesn't want to scare her because he's the one that needs to be strong. He sets the cloth on the counter and grabs the ledge with his left hand, "I'm worried Kate."

Her lips fade into a straight line as her eyebrows arch. She reaches out and manages to move her fingers between his and the counter, "me too."

Feeling her fingers between his reminds him of why they need to get off this island. He wants to hold this baby. His baby, even if the genetics prove that it isn't. He wants to feel it wrap a hand around his finger and gurgle and coo when he talks to it. He can worry about Everything else when they're on a helicopter with Lapidus who's wearing earphones and yelling at them some snarky comment about taking long enough.

After a hard swallow and a required repression of his concern for the future, he focuses on the present, "Come on," he leads her back to the couch where he takes the same seat on the coffee table and begins to carefully wipe at her cut again.

"How's your shoulder?" she winces in pain and rolls her right eye away from looking at the injury. He wonders if she knows how much gravel was imbedded in her skin.

"It's fine," he lies, it's burning like hell, "How's your head?"

"Fine."

It's a lie, but he's glad she does it. There's nothing more he can do to help besides the two aspirin he gave her earlier. He also had to fight to keep her awake at the meeting they had with Sawyer and Hurley because he didn't know if her head injury was a concussion. Her harsh pregnancy alone requires more than the two aspirin he gave her.

"Do you know what you're going to do with Locke?" He cleans the final bit of dried blood from her face and lets his hand drop. The wound has finally stopped bleeding and he's grateful that she doesn't need stitches but her face will be swollen tomorrow.

"I'll just talk to him. He keeps asking me questions about the baby. I'll just make up some long elaborate answers," he nods at her answer, not really appeased with her reply and leaves to hopefully end up in bed.

She stands after he takes a few steps, "Jack, I just have to distract him for fifteen minutes."

"Locke is dangerous," he bursts and feels like he's talking down to her, but she needs to know that no one will be there to help her, "If he starts to catch on, you need to run."

"Jack," she's annoyed and bouncing from one foot to the other. He remembers earlier, before leaving for Claire's her right ankle was beginning to swell. No matter how atheletic she was, the pregnancy is definitely going to hinder her chances of making a quick escape.

"If he tries anything," reaching back into his waistband, he grasps the cool butt of the gun, "use this."

"Jack," her eyes are wide as he forces the gun into her hands, "what do you think is going to happen?"

"I don't know Kate," he runs a hand over his hair and takes a deep inhalation of ash, "He just blew up Claire."

"You think I can't—"

He takes a step towards her and places his hand on her bicep, "I know you can."

"I want to go home Jack," her eyes are glassy. Within a few more breathes she's shaking with sobs and tears leave tracks through the black on her face, "I just want to go home."

"I know," he removes the gun from her hand, placing it on the table with the safety on, "I do too." He wraps his good arm around her waist with his hand resting on the small of her back. He tries to remember what it was like to encircle her fully in his arms without the hurdle of her stomach.

Tears fall on his shirt when she flings her arms around him and cries silently into the side of his neck. "We're going to go home Kate," he hugs her tighter because somewhere underneath all the soot and the smell of embers he can smell her skin. "We're going home tomorrow."

* * *

_Next Chapter - How does one distract an insane Locke? _

_Also if you enjoy the story please review. It makes me happy. And happy writers write faster. Wink wink.  
_


	23. Luck

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who continued to read the last chapter even though I was mean and didn't update for an eternity. A special thank you to those who reviewed. Knowing you appreciate this story enough to actually tell me makes it all worth while. I'm glad I've kept some of the original followers.__ The next update may not come as quickly as I'm thinking of working on a one-shot because this week's episode was sucky to me and I want closure dammit.  
_

Left Behind

Chapter 23

Luck

In the hazy transition between sleeping and consciousness, her hand falls lazily against Jack's right arm. The coolness of his skin draws her from her slumber and she finds herself wide awake in the predawn wondering how much his shoulder hurts. There's still a dull sting in the back of her head, and no way she'll even be touching the right side of her face for a few days.

Her eyes struggle in the darkness to see his shoulder, but then her memory kicks in and she realizes Jack must still be in the thin gray t-shirt he changed into. So she finds herself in a role reversal watching Jack sleep instead of the other way around. She knows that he watches her, not out of duty like he used to on the beach, but out of need. It scares her to think of how devoted he may be to her.

The empty feeling of nausea hits her stomach and she thinks it's the perfect start to what will be a horrible day. She has to deal with Locke, put on a façade of a Kate she isn't, but she doesn't even feel like the Kate she is anymore. The old Kate would've already shot Locke after everything that happened. The old Kate wouldn't have accepted being dependent on Jack or anyone else who happened to be around. The old Kate wasn't weak and used to bend with complications, not break at the idea of them.

But the old Kate didn't have someone else depending solely on her for their protection, existence and constant creation. The old Kate didn't have to put anyone before her at any time if she didn't want to. The old Kate didn't have the luxury of being able to make a decision based on what she wanted whisked away. She envies the old Kate, who made rash and sometimes stupid choices that ended in bad consequences, like being the Others' guinea pig, but at least she got to make the choices herself.

Beside her Jack takes a deep inhalation and twists his torso in his sleep inadvertently putting more weight on his shoulder. With her eyes well adjusted to the darkness now, she watches his face contort with pain and his eyes shoot open.

"Kate?" his question is groggy and muffled by a yawn as his good hand adjusts a pillow behind his head.

Being alone on the beach together they had the opportunity to discover each other's nighttime quirks before sleeping together. Jack doesn't fall easily into a deep sleep, but when he does, he can snore like a motorcycle. She won't tell him he does, because he might leave her to get some sleep and she'd rather be with him. She on the other hand tends to thrash in her sleep and since their transition to the bed Jack's taken the precautions of cushioning the headboard the best he can for her fists.

Slinking her body as close to his as she asks, "How's your shoulder?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, she doesn't know why, no one is near them, but it seems oddly appropriate.

"Just stiff," his answer is a whisper as well, but he groans when he tries to move to prove his point.

"Do you want some ice or some aspirin?" She does mean well, and want him to be comfortable, but she hopes he says no. The aspirin in is the bathroom which has the toilet and even thinking about the toilet right now is making her stomach ill.

He smiles almost euphorically, the type of smile only seen in the transitional sleep stage, and she thinks he's going to close his eyes again. Instead his good hand comes out to tuck her hair behind her ear. The pads of his fingers scrap across her face in a way that makes her shiver just from his touch. Even his fingers in her hair begin to relax her and the sick feeling she begins to diminish.

She settles onto the edge of her pillow with her hands folded underneath her head and her stomach almost poking Jack in his side.

"How about you?"

"What about me?" his hand pulls through her hair again and then feeling is calming like rain hitting a tin roof.

"How's your head and your face?"

A grin pulls at her lips when she realizes that even in his altered state, Jack makes sure not to disturb the injured area on her head, "They're fine." It's the honest truth, she can't feel the pain as much anymore, it's bearable.

"What about this one," the warmth of his hand diffuses over her stomach and the feeling only makes her more relaxed.

"Is actually sleeping."

"Thank God for small miracles."

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we ever just going to be a normal family?" It may just be one of the nonsensical thoughts that brood before falling asleep, but she feels that this question is of the utmost importance.

He shifts, but still keeps his hand in place, "What do you mean?"

"When we get off this island, are we ever just going to be normal? Like have jobs and a house and a family?"

He leans over, adjusting the blanket so it covers her stomach, then places a kiss near her temple. His breath is a soothing hot on her skin, "I promise you we're going to have that and more."

* * *

"You know what you're doing right?" It's the fifth time he's asked her since they woke up. She's trying to treat it like it's any other day and not think of the consequences that could occur if even one thing goes wrong.

"Jack," she glances over her shoulder at him from where she perches on the side of the bed. Her hands are working the material on her hiking boots to make it a little more comfortable for her engorged feet and the lids of her right eye become lazier by the second because the cut on her face is swelling. "I'll be fine," she's not sure of that, "it's fifteen minutes of idle chatter."

Kneeling before her, he takes the shoe and places it on the proper foot, "You can't just walk up to him and divulge everything he's wanted to know about the pregnancy. He's going to know something is up."

"That's why I have a plan."

"Oh you have a plan," he chuckles and ties her other shoe. She guesses that this is how it's going to be from now on, Jack always having to tie her shoes and pick up things that are below the height of her hip.

She places a hand on either side of his neck, constantly weary of his shoulder, "It's a very good plan too," her fingers run over the stressed muscles, "Your pregnant damsel in distress type."

Jack catches her wrist and brings it to his lips, "just don't play too distressed."

She doesn't know why, but the cadence of his voice discourages her because she thinks that if this doesn't work and something happens to Jack, she can't comprehend how she would even continue living. Being on an island without Jack and pregnant, or being rescued and back in reality without Jack. She knows she can't do this alone. It was never an option because Jack was always there.

Pulling him closer to her, so his head rests on her stomach, she places her cheek against the smoothness of his hair. He smells like sulfur, because they didn't have the time to wait for the show to stop spewing tainted water, but she ignores it.

"I love you, Jack." There's no other sound in the room except the faint drawl of Sawyer talking to Hurley in their living room and a few light drops of rain speckling the window. A few more seconds pass and she's wondering if he even heard her because she doesn't remember saying the words aloud.

"I love you so much." She's almost crying now. She doesn't want to be that girl, the sensitive, emotional girl who gets all weepy while watching romance movies but she's not crying for the feeling, she's crying because she got to tell him.

He kisses her. It's not earth shattering, or the passionate sweaty type of kiss that leads into way more serious stuff because they're already there and frankly too tired to take it anywhere but first base. It's a kiss between two people who love each other and just want to find a way to safely be with each other.

"What the hell are you two doing in there," Sawyer's fist pounds on the thin door and the mirrored closet doors shake with the impact, "We got a hell of an important appointment to keep."

She smiles at Jack one more time, her eyes finding his and the comfort and protection there as her thumbs stroke the coarse stubble on his cheeks. The moment still remains blissful even with Sawyer's increasingly adrenaline fuelled interruptions.

Sawyer throws up his arms when they open the door and walk with practiced stoicism into the living room, "Took you long enough."

Jack ignores Sawyer, making her smile and opens his pack to double check that everything he needs is in it, "Does everyone understand what they have to do?"

"No, explain it to me again."

"Seriously Dude," Hurley interjects with one hand on his forehead and the other one clumsily holding a gun, "We can get through this faster without the extreme sarcasm."

Sawyer mutters something offensive back as Jack gives her a gun, "the safety is on. If you can't shoot Locke, fire the gun anyway. I'll hear you."

She nods, observing the cool metal in her hand for a moment, before tucking it into her waistband. The large pair of blue jeans she found when they first moved to the Barracks no longer needs a belt and there isn't much room to secure the gun.

"We're meeting at the control panel in the fence," he checks his gun and then mimics her actions, stowing it in his waistband. Then his hand reaches out and caresses her stomach one last time through the blue dress shirt that she's going to have to discard in a few days.

"Are we gonna go, or do you want me to rub your Buddha belly for good luck too Freckles?"

As she turns to leave, Jack's hand catches hers and his eyes are clear and serious, "you only need to talk to him for fifteen minutes. After that get away from him any way you can."

* * *

_Next Chapter - Kate confronts Locke for reals and things go south. It'll also be from Kate's POV screwing up the POV pattern (from Jack to Kate and back) but I think it'll be worth it. _

Also please be kind and review this one for me. I have to work for 10 hours on my feet and coming home to some awesome reviews would make my life. _  
_


	24. Pain

_A/N: I just wanted to say thank you so much to everyone who reviewed. You made a bad day bearable. In return I promise to get the next chapter started right away (which is good for you because it's so ambiguous that it's awesome). _

Left Behind

Chapter 24

Pain

Dry dirt clods crunch under her feet as she takes clumsy steps away from the house. She knows that Jack, Hurley and Sawyer slink through the jungle periphery, waiting for her. Fragments of Claire's house remain scattered around the Barracks, pieces of charred siding still smolder in the early morning sun.

Her pack is loose over her shoulder; the white dress shirt that belonged to Jack hangs indolently out, waving in the wind as she waddles through the wreckage. Her body aches, her right eye is almost swollen shut and the back of her head throbs. She feels her feet engorge until they reach the casing of her hiking boots, and she knows that retreating is going to be a challenge.

As she turns a bend, she finds Locke between two houses clearing out remnants of Claire's kitchen cabinets. He should be at his house, Hurley claims that he always makes pancakes at this time, but instead he's climbing over cupboards and chairs. It surprises her, seeing him so quickly, and reignites the fear buried in her gut.

With her mouth dry and her palms sweating she's ready run back to her house to barricade herself inside when over the nauseous feeling in her gut comes an encouraging kick. Without another thought, she nods to herself in confirmation and rolls her shoulder twice.

Her feet stamp louder over broken dry wall and she's anything but stealthy. Within a few steps, Locke glances up and wears a grin that curves his eyes around his facial scar. As she takes another step, the shirt falls from her pack and crumples in the dirt. She swallows hard and first bends at the waist to retrieve the shirt, then when that fails, she bends her knees but still falls short of contact.

Standing from the debris, Locke wipes his hands on his pants, "Need some help Kate?"

"No," her voice is irritated because she really can't do something as simple as pick up a discarded piece of clothing from the ground. But this is the plan and he's falling for it.

"Please, I insist," his strides are large, multiple times her tiny shuffle, as he crosses the courtyard.

"Really," she grunts as she extends her arm in hope of proving that she isn't completely invalid, "I've got it."

But her fingers don't even graze the material before Locke picks up the shirt and hands it to her. He's all grins and even lets out a chuckle when she hesitates, "I'm not going to hurt you Kate." He nods at the shirt as an indication that it's alright to take it.

Cautiously, her hand reaches and grabs at a balled part of material to avoid all contact she can with him. Her lips twitch into what she hopes is some form of a smile, "Thanks."

"Not at all," he holds his hands up to indicate just how meaningless the task is to him, and she takes it in offense with some form of anger sparking inside of her. "Are you okay? I mean from the incident."

She rolls her lips together as she gives a strict nod, "I'm fine."

"That's a nasty looking cut you've got," his arms are crossed over his chest and he's talking to her as if he's hosting a dinner party not like they're in the middle of the remains of a woman he killed.

"It's fine."

"Are you sure you shouldn't be taking it easy?" He leans forward an inch as his eyes squint into slits of concern, "It can't be good for the little one."

"I'm just out here to find more clothes," in the corner of her eye, she can see intact picnic tables near the periphery and decides to make her move. With an elaborated groan she adds, "I think I need to sit down."

"Oh," he chuckles again and moves beside her as she shuffles to the tables. Pointing to her stomach he states "You must be gaining a pound a week at this point."

"I don't know. I don't have a scale or a calendar," she keeps her response cold, her hands covering her stomach because suddenly she feels like she's on display.

Not rebuffed by her sarcasm he takes a seat at the opposite end of the table, "I'm really surprised that Jack let you come out here by yourself."

"He doesn't own me."

"Oh I know Kate," he's chuckling again and each time her heart beats a little faster because there's something unnerving about it, "I know."

They sit in silence as she waits for the minutes to tick by and for him to stop assessing her. He's the first to move, clapping his hands together once and letting out a sigh, "Well, you're welcome to check in any of these houses, but I don't think you'll find anything that will fit you."

"Okay then," pressing her lips together, she pushes herself off the green painted wood.

"Actually," he calls out to her once she's gotten a steady pace and easily covers the distance. She turns, trying to hide her irritation and places her hands on her lower back while she waits for him to speak, "On second thought, I think you'd better come with me Kate."

Her heart stops.

"Excuse me?" She asks with as much attitude as she can muster.

"You really didn't think that I was going to let you go, did you?" the nausea returns at full force and it's getting hard for her to breathe. Locke must notice the change in her attitude as he merely shakes his head, "You have something that belongs to us Kate. As soon as we get it you're free to go."

"Like hell it belongs to you," she flings her backpack as hard as she can at him, which startles him long enough that she can reach the gun and switch off the safety.

Before she shoots, his large hand flies out, grasping the right side of her face. The stab of pain is so powerful that her vision darkens and she thinks she might pass out. Locke's other hand clamps around her wrist, constricting like a python, pressuring her to drop the weapon. But in her disorientated state she manages to squeeze the trigger three times before he shakes the gun from her hand.

Not a single shot hits him and while the spots clear from her vision she hears him let out another, almost disappointed sigh. "I wanted to do this the civil way," one of his hands is curling into her hair and forcing her to stand straight, while the other jabs the gun at her side.

The hot metal burns through her shirt as she tries to wrench away from him, "It's not exactly like we need you to be conscious for the next four months Kate. It's actually an incon—"

Another shot rings out across the Barracks and both she and Locke fall face first into the dry grass. All she can smell is soil as her lungs burn for oxygen. She's breathing, she knows she is but she exhales in wheezes. Pain flourishes in the small of her back, but when she tests the area, her hand becomes wet. She gasps at her hand and the copper smell accompanying it and when a raw pain rips through her abdomen, she knows she's been shot.

"Freckles," Sawyer's contour scampers across the clearing, as he nears, she notices the rifle slung across his back. His hands become frantic, trying to get her to stand, to talk, to move.

"He shot me."

"No he didn't, I shot him."

Air wheezes through her mouth as she pants, she raises her hand to inches from his face, "Blood."

"That's his goddamn blood Freckles, now come on." His hot arms wrap just underneath her breasts as he forces her into a standing position. She's still dizzying as he pushes her in front of him and herds her away from Locke's body.

They make it only a few steps into the jungle, when she slaps his hand away from her, "Sawyer—"another wave of pain surges through her abdomen and she screams. To stop her from doubling over, he holds her against his chest. She tries to focus on anything that will dull the pain, she can hear his heart beat increase and feel the scratchy pads of his fingers on the back of her neck.

"What's wrong?"

She's panting, sweaty and dirty, trying to keep her body upright as the searing pain rips through her back. Her voice is guttural as she cries out again, her face muffled in his shoulder and all she can smell is his sweat.

After a few short but stable breaths, the pain diffuses to the point of no longer even existing. Relief, however, does not come, because she knows exactly what is happening, "Sawyer, we need to find Jack now."

"The bullet didn't hit you," his voice is firm but his face is panicked, "I just hit Locke right—"

"It's not that Sawyer." She pulls away from him, placing her hands on her hips; she uses her thumbs to rub the tense muscles of her lower back as she walks away.

"You wanna tell me what the hell is going on then?" he trails her, lost and confused, but genuinely concerned.

Increasing her pace, she doesn't even bother to glance back to him, "I'm having cramps."

* * *

_Next Chapter - Everyone takes a time out. And Kate's pains may not be what they seem. But either way it's still bad. Because I'm mean. _


	25. Possibilities

_A/N: Sorry guys, I originally meant to have this chapter up yesterday night, but I just wasn't feeling it. If it makes you feel any better, I'm working on Chapter 26 as we speak (or read and write). Plus my attentions been diverted as I've just become the owner of a precious new bunny, who is now the light of my life.  
Also, an actual, genuine Author's Note: I've gone back to the original omniscient narrating style because with 5 or 6 main guy characters, the 'he' get's pretty confusing. Oh, and if Kate seemed a little OOC in the last chapter I blame it on the pregnancy (her not mine (because I'm not with-child) but the next chapter should make up for that.  
Once again, thank you for reviewing, it make the writing all worth while. _

Left Behind

Chapter 25

Possibilities 

"It's been twenty minutes," the clearing is too quiet, he hears the incessant tick of his new watch as a humid wind undulates the grass. The sun is higher in the sky than it should be, their original plan was to be out of the Barracks by eleven, his watch says it's ten-thirty but the sun's position is directly over them making him wonder if this watch is wrong too.

Hurley stirs, letting his backpack hit the ground as he turns his arm over to check his watch, "Dude, it's only been eighteen minutes."

Jack shakes his head and sets his jaw, "They should've been back by now."

Shrugging it off, Hurley takes a few scuffling footsteps forward, "Maybe Kate got involved in a really interesting conversation with Locke."

He's still shaking his head and his fingers twitch at his side aching to grab his gun and rush off into the jungle, "She didn't want to do this. I shouldn't have made her do this. She hates Locke."

"Everyone hates Locke, Man," Hurley's reply is still calm, though darkness diffuses over his facial features. Jack remembers how Hurley reacted when Claire died and how he swore vengeance on Locke in an extremely uncharacteristic manner. He nods in agreement, choosing not to provoke Hurley's rage.

The harsh sound of cracking sticks and footsteps echo from the jungle and soon foliage by the clearing begins to rustle. Hurley's head shoots up while he fumbles with a gun. Jack's gun is already aiming at the disturbance, keen eye focusing, just waiting to see even an inkling of Locke.

But his eyes find Sawyer not Locke and the other man doesn't even have to utter a word because all other concerns disappear when he sees Kate in his arms.

"What happened," there's panic in his voice, something he's usually able to repress, but she's squeezing her eyes closed in pain and clenching her teeth. Sawyer slowly drops her legs, allowing her to keep her feet on the ground, but supporting her with a hand on her back. The action ignites distrust in Jack and immediately his hand replaces Sawyer's.

"I think I'm in labor," Kate's words are hot breaths that he feels on the side of his face. Her eyes dart frantically until they meet his, "Jack, I'm in labor."

He faces her and his hand starts to stroke her hair in order to comfort her, "You're not in labor."As she shakes her head in disagreement, her hair bounces and tears streak her cheeks, "You just need to relax," his thumb wipes away new tears and flames of anxiety burst inside of him when she's hot to the touch.

"Doc?" Sawyer juts a thumb back to the fence.

He nods as his hand grasps underneath Kate's shaking arms, "All we have to do it make it through the fence."

Kate tries to pull away, but he tightens his grip on her slick skin. She shakes her head, "No."

"Yes," he interrupts her protests and presses his forehead against hers. The action seems to quiet her so he continues, "We just need to get to a safe distance, and then we'll rest. Okay?"

"Doc," Sawyer calls and beckons with a wave of his hand, "fence is down."

Kate's green eyes that no longer contain their usual shimmer and at the puffy redness that accompanies her crying. She sucks in a jagged breath and answers, "Okay."

The already tight muscles in her back tense as his arm slides around her for support. He slows his pace to almost infinitesimal steps in order to walk with her. They're almost at the fence when her breath hitches again, her hands dig into her abdomen and she cries out.

"It's okay," his breathes comfortingly even though he knows it's a lie. All the events Kate's endured while being pregnant on the island are compiling to stress her to the point where she's entered into premature labor. He's holding on to the shred of hope that she isn't dilated, something supported by the fact that her water hasn't broken yet.

Kate's arm hooks around his neck but as she gasps, her body seems limp. He catches Sawyer's grim eyes again; the man's lips are pursed so hard they've lost color. "I gotta talk to you."

Jack's response is an incredulous laugh, "Does it really have to be now?"

Sawyer doesn't answer; instead he gestures to the jungle and starts to walk away.

"Kate, can you sit down?" she nods her head against his neck, and follows his body as he bends towards the ground, "Hurley?"

"I'll sit with her, Man."

He finds Sawyer in a small alcove in the tree line pacing back and forth with a sour expression. The other man rubs his chin and lets out a sigh, "You know what's going on with her?"

"Premature labor brought on by stress," he blathers out the answer because it's a medical fact; it's a remnant from his days as a surgeon. He used to be able to remove himself from these types of situations.

"Brought on by stress?" Sawyer raises an eyebrow with doubt, "Jesus Doc, use your head."

Jack's eyes squint, wondering if he misheard the other man, "What?"

"You and I both read all those medical files about island pregnancies. We both know what happens by the sixth month--"

He doesn't bother for Sawyer to finish, because he already knows it isn't true. "It's impossible."

Sawyer leans forward, his eyebrows raised as he questions nonchalantly, "How's that?"

"Well for one thing, Kate definitely would've been showing symptoms if she hadn't been entirely affected by now." His heart sounds loudly in his chest due to Sawyer's blatant waste of time.

Sawyer crosses his arms and leans his back against a hollow tree, "And you don't think that whatever Juliet did could've just postponed that?"

"How—"

"I read a lot more than you think."

Taking a moment to actually consider Sawyer's option, Jack tries to play out all possible outcomes, but only one manages to wedge itself. Ben is lying, Sawyer is the father and Juliet messing with their genetics only managed to deflect the drastic situation a few more months. He swallows his dejection for the moment and instead worries about Kate, "So you think--"

"She's dying Doc."

As he opens his mouth to speak his lower lip trembles, because if Sawyer is right, they have no time. His face grows hot as his hand rubs over the muscles in his neck. Then a familiar sound in the distance drowns out his thoughts. He and Sawyer exchange brief glances before running back to the clearing just on time to see a helicopter approach the island.

"Kate?" She's still on the ground with Hurley who is nice enough to offer up a hand to relieve her of some pain.

"I'll carry her," Sawyer steps forward, his jaw set and his eyes lowered in focus, "The clearing is only an hour or so away. We can get there quicker if I do."

A twinge of jealousy hits his heart; he can't help Kate if they get stranded here again. He can't even help Kate walk because his shoulder is still bruised. It seems only right that Sawyer should step up; after all there is a possibility that this is his baby again. Without verbal recognition, Jack lets his head nod as he stares at the ground.

"Well good," he can hear the sarcasm dripping from the other man's voice, "Now that that tough decision's been made, you think that we can actually make it through this fence that I had to go through Locke's personal items to get the code to?"

As Sawyer approaches Kate, who's crushing Hurley's hand, Jack turns back to the woods for any final signs of danger. The shock of seeing one barely registers before a gunshot rings out and he falls back hard, his head hitting the dry dirt. His shoulder feels wet, but then turns numb and as he's trying to figure out what's happening, he hears the gun cock again.

* * *

_Next Chapter - Oh boy, three people you thought you'd never see again resurface. Someone dies and the killer is not who you would expect someone unexpected is rescued (more people are rescued but this one is really shocking). Feed me with your intellectual speculations!_


	26. Choices

_A/N: I updated fast because you reviewed fast so Quid Pro Quo. Plus I have the next four chapters planned and I'm excited to start them. Oh and just for fun because I'm mean like this, you won't find out the real genetics of the kid until well after it's born. Yay!  
_

Left Behind

Chapter 26

Choices

"Let me go," her fingernails dig into Sawyer's arms as he fights to keep her safe behind him.

"Now Kate," Ben stands on the top of a small hill with a gun trained on Jack, who is laying face up, eyes closed and unmoving to her calls. A bright red blotch begins to grow on his shoulder, permeating his gray shirt. It's the same shoulder he dislocated two days ago, "There's no need to get all worked up and do even more damage."

"Freckles," the tone of Sawyer's voice is a warning to stop struggling, but this is their baby, and Jack is her everything. So in an ungraceful, but spry movement, she manages to dodge Sawyer's oppressive arms and run to Jack's aid.

"Jack," her hands run over his cheeks, feeling the grit and dirt on his skin. He half-opens his eyes, they're unfocused and she can tell he's in a daze, but just that action gives her the relief that she needs.

"He doesn't have to get hurt anymore," Ben's voice floats like the calm winds from his vantage point, completely empty of threat, which makes her all the more wary, "He, James and Hugo can go get on that helicopter and you have my word that I won't do a single thing to stop them. But of course you're going to have to stay."

"Like hell she is," Sawyer growls through clenched teeth, his hands wrapping around the strap on his rifle, waiting for Ben to slip up.

Sawyer's gestures don't seem to faze Ben at all, "Jack would be able to get medical help," his eyes are wide and sincere, "if he stays on the island, I guarantee he won't live."

"How?" Jack mutters as he moves against her lap. She attempts to pull him into a lounging position, with her hands gripping his good shoulder. He hisses in pain but then relaxes and she focuses on the heat he's radiating and not the wetness of blood on her fingers.

"Why would Locke kill me Jack? We wanted the same thing," Ben's focus shifts from Jack, who's head is touching her shoulder, to Sawyer, "We just had to learn how to share it."

"I don't give a damn if you two play well now," Sawyer, unthreatened takes three large steps forward until he's within an arm's length from her, "Kate ain't staying."

Ben chuckles, his lips curling with sinister intentions, "That's not an option James. Either you leave or you die."

"Run," Jack whispers, his breath a hot whisper in her ear, "Kate, go."

"All right," Ben sighs, "I had a feeling that you might be convinced not to take my deal, so," Ben stretches his leg to the side and with some effort manages to slide something into view from behind the shrubs.

"Oh God," the gasp helps subside the nausea rising in her stomach. Involuntarily, her arms wrap tighter around Jack so she's hugging him from behind, because she needs it.

Sawyer washes a hand over his face and turns away for a moment, "Jesus."

"I believe you all remember Aaron," Ben reaches down to the car seat containing the infant, his hand brushing the top of the blond boy's head as he sleeps.

Kate swallows and watches Aaron sleep. How his pouty lips purse together and she tries to find similarities to Claire. He doesn't deserve this life, but neither does her child. At least if she stays, her baby will know its mother. "If I stay, you'll let Aaron leave?"

"No," Jack rolls his head against her shoulder and presses a hand to her stomach.

"It ain't happening Freckles."

"Oh, of course not," Ben also agrees, but then the direction of his gun changes until it's facing the car seat, "If you don't stay, I'll shoot Aaron."

"You won't," her cadence is challenging and her hand is running over Jack's hair as she feels the pressure of his hand still on her stomach, "You need him."

"Not as much as I need your baby." Ben crouches down so his body is roughly the size of the carrier and the gun is much closer to the boy's face. Refusing to answer only provokes him, "Really Kate? You're willing to let an innocent child die?"

With a trembling sigh her grip loosens on Jack, "Kate?" but when she pulls away from him he seizes one of her wrists, "No."

"Jack, I can't just—"

"No," his hand only squeezes harder.

"At least our baby will still have a mother."

"You'll die."

Her eyebrows slope into an expression of confusion as she stares into his hazel eyes. Is this another secret he hasn't been telling her about? "What do you mean?"

The sound of Ben standing draws back their attention, "Kate you need to make a—"

A sickening thud resonates through the silent canopy and Ben's body falls forward rolling down the slope and coming to a stop inches before Jack's feet. His eyes are blank and dry as they stare up at the clouds growing in the sky; blood runs freely from his head mixing with the dirt.

"Hugo?" Sawyer squints and takes a cautious step forward. But as he moves by Kate, his rifle is steady in his hands. Hurley must have snuck around behind Ben, bludgeoning him in the back of the head with the butt of his handgun, but it still doesn't stop her heart from beating so fast that it wakes the baby.

Merely shaking his head, Hurley releases Aaron from the car seat. Bringing the boy to his chest he pats the infants back, "I couldn't protect Claire, but I can protect this little Dude."

"Great," Sawyer mutters slinging back his rifle as Hurley takes careful steps down the slope, "Now that we're all a happy family can we get to the Goddamn chopper and off this island?" He reaches down and offers a hand to Jack, who accepts, and pulls him into a precarious standing position, "You okay to walk, Doc?"

"Yeah," Jack nods, he bends his right arm to his chest but after one step his footing stumbles and he stops himself from falling by placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Jesus, I can't carry both of you," Sawyer, brings Jack's arm around his neck to stabilize him.

Kate chances a look at her stomach, which is speckled with Jack's blood, but unchanged. No pain comes from inside her, "I think I'm okay."

"My ass your—"

"Kate, you need to—"

Ignoring the protests, her palms dig into the ground and while arching her back, she actually manages to stand up with minimal help from Sawyer who watches along with Jack like she's about to attempt juggling burning pieces of glass. "Maybe it was just nerves?"

"Yeah," Sawyer scoffs as he rolls his eyes and turns away, "That must be it."

* * *

_Next Chapter - Did someone say FLASHBACK? Because I certainly did. _


	27. The Break

_A/N: Hey guys. Just a reminder that this chapter is in fact a **flashback **faithful readers will recognize it as the uncharted two weeks when Jack left Kate on the beach. It's a little on the long side but I just really wanted to write this chapter.  
Once again thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. You guys are the best. _

Left Behind

Chapter 27

The Break

The smell of gasoline lingers in the air, as the day's humid breeze cools with the fall of night. An accosting red color batters the sky and the sun explodes on the horizon. The phone is soundless beside him, the screen is now cracked and fades in and out when held at awkward angles, but it should still work. It does still work, it's just, no one is talking back.

Kate wraps the brown sweater tighter around her body, this morning when she tried to do it up, the zipper broke right off the tracks. She actually became upset, and through the organization of the groups, he explained to her that it was just a zipper and to suck it up because they would be home soon.

As Kate's arms fall to her side again, her sweater falls open and with the sun as a backdrop, his breath hitches in his throat when he takes in her profile. Maybe he was wrong.

"Hear anything on the phone?" her eyes watch the horizon, squinting against the dying light. The phone crackles an angry static and nothing more. He doesn't even bother to look at it, because all he sees is the protrusion in her outline.

"Jack?" she angles her body towards him and he notices the gap between where her shirt ends and her pants begin is significantly bigger as is the skin threatening to burst through. Other things on her are larger too, things he should've noticed before any of the other signs, but he didn't because he was busy, because he respects her.

Within a second he's on his feet, approaching her, feeling like he's in some nightmare. He's never thought of the island as entirely unbearable, but now he'd give anything to be anywhere else. "How long have you known?"

Slanting her eyebrows and crinkling her nose just slightly, her lips form a semi-smile of innocence and she shakes her head, "What? Known what?"

This action infuriates him. He thought they had a pretty good rapport, that if not anything else, they were friends, but most importantly that she could trust him. His hand comes up to cover his mouth, so he doesn't speak malicious words. Words that he wants to scream at her until she cries.

Leaving seems to be the best option, it's the only way for him to get away from her and come to terms with this situation, but on the first footfall he whips back around and with a face he's sure is as red as the sky, "You're pregnant."

All the color drains from her face and her green eyes grow dark and glassy, "Jack—"

"How long have you known?" His voice is loud enough to scare birds out of a nearby tree, his fists clench so hard that he feels his nails dig into his skin.

Her eyes flutter back to the sunset, back to where the contour of a helicopter should be floating back into view. She doesn't speak, but he's not leaving, he braces his boots on the ground, digging them through the grass until two ridges of dirt line each side. Behind him the phone sputters static.

"Six weeks."

He doesn't reply. He has to clench his teeth together so he doesn't reply. His face feels hot and his heart beats inside his ears. He knows when it happened. His father always commended his eidetic memory, but isn't not like he forgets how he felt when he moved the heavy metal door in the aquarium and saw Kate with Sawyer on black and white monitors. How for the longest time he didn't do anything, even eat or sleep, until he decided he wanted her to be happy. Now that is the furthest thing from his mind. He's tired of sacrificing his feelings to benefit other people. It's why he's still here with her.

"I didn't even know for sure until six weeks ago," she's wringing her hands together, picking at her sweater, anything to keep from looking at him. All he sees is how big she's gotten already, her stomach sticking out to him like a neon sign. "I thought I wasn't. I really thought—"

"Why didn't you get on the helicopter? Why didn't you leave when I told you to?"

Kate's expression turns from shameful to offended, her hands still and her eyes burrow into his, "Believe it or not Jack, I can make my own decisions."

"Yeah, that's great," he turns away from her, picking up the phone and dropping it in his pack, "You're a grown woman and you can make your decisions. Well," he plods back over to her, "Not only did you have unprotected sex with Sawyer, but you chose to remain on an island where pregnancy is fatal."

Without waiting for a response, he leaves. There's just enough sunlight to get back to the beach, "Maybe now you know why I try to decide things for you Kate."

* * *

She doesn't come back that night, and honestly he's glad. Lying inside his tent with the tarp drawn back a little so he can watch the sky for any signs of the helicopter, he doesn't sleep because he can't get the fact that Kate is pregnant out of his mind.

He doesn't eat anything, or leave the tent to walk the surf, or pack more supplies that he knows he forgot. He doesn't even build a fire, because if the helicopter does return and it only takes Kate who he knows is still at the clearing, he thinks that's fine. He doesn't mind being trapped here, but he can't do it with her like this.

Just before sunrise, he hears the sound of her feet hitting the sand and a new wave of resentment flushes over him. He needs to be left alone; he needs to have time to cool down. He needs to leave.

Within an hour and on no food or sleep, he has a bag packed with the minimal essentials: an extra shirt, two bottles of water and some fruit. He pulls the bag on and dusts his hands off on his jeans, aching to leave, to not smell the salt from the sea, to just be alone.

He debates telling her, every inkling he has tells him to just leave, don't give her any warning, or any chance to convince him to stay, she didn't give him any warning when she did what she did. But some fragmented shard forces him to talk to her, to have the decency that none of the men in her life have had.

"You're leaving?" her eyes are wide and she wets her dried lips. No innocence this time, just fear.

"Yep," monosyllabic answers are the best if he can stick to them.

"Are," she swallows and a hand tries to pull down her tight top, "Are you coming back?"

"Maybe."

Her voice cracks, "When?"

"I don't know."

"The helicopter?"

He thrusts the phone into her hand and she lets out a sob. Maybe because he's abandoning her like Sawyer, and Lapidus and everyone else she's ever known. Maybe because if she does find the helicopter she knows he won't get on it.

"What about—"

He doesn't let her finish, because he knows she would play this card, the card she only uses when she's in an unbeatable situation, the last resort. The damsel in distress. To quell her panic, he points back at his tent, "There's a gun and some ammo in there. You should be able to handle yourself, you're a grown woman, right?"

* * *

It's around the twelfth day wandering the island in his snit that his quiet ruminations finally help him get over Kate's mistakes. He emerges through the jungle and comes to a spot that he clearly remembers, the last time he was here was the day that Oceanic 815 crashed.

He sits down in the exact same spot where he almost doubled over in pain. The first time he saw her. How her hair was wild around her face and how she was cradling her skinned wrists, he would later find out that it was from handcuffs. Even though she was hurting, she sewed him up. He remembers how her fingers were feather light against the slashed skin on his back, the way he felt an immediate connection with her. Told her about counting to five, things he wouldn't even admit to Sarah or his father.

Kate's been there for him, even came back to rescue him after he told her to run. She doesn't do things because they're safe or logical. She does them for him. He didn't want her to come back for him, just like how he doesn't want to grasp the fact that she's pregnant with Sawyer's child, but it's something he thinks he can come to grips with.

If that helicopter doesn't come back, she's going to be all alone on an island where she knows her death is imminent all because of him. And how does he repay her? He abandons her, like every man she's know, like the father of her child.

The sand starts to sting his knees, so he rises from his kneeling position and grabs his bag. If he walks straight through the night, he can be back at the camp by tomorrow morning.

* * *

His feet are dragging through the slimy sand and foaming waves. He's moving slower than he anticipated, but he can't help it, he's trepidatious. What if Kate's not there? What if she's gotten off the island, or already has symptoms. Another thought stirs within his head, one that makes his entire body cold; Ben and Locke are still on the island, what if--

Moving away from the surf, he starts to run down the beach, until he comes to a familiar bend that hides the ruins of Oceanic 815's inhabitants. There's no fire burning, or any sign of Kate, nothing is out of place from when he left two weeks ago. The sand is noticeably duller and the wind somewhat cooler, but the camp seems deserted.

Tossing his bag down by his tent, he takes light footsteps when approaching Kate's in case she's asleep. Somewhere in his mind he vaguely remembers that while he was excited about returning home and celebrating with the other survivors, Kate was resting a lot. He's disappointed with himself for not noticing sooner, not only as a doctor, but as someone who cares for her.

He taps lightly on the blue tarp waving in the wind, and when a harsh gust blows he has a clear view into her tent and that she's not inside. Anxiety battles guilt inside of him, he's nervous that something's happened to her, and guilty that he was off gallivanting around the island on some sabbatical. He wonders if she was scared.

In the sand, only a few feet from the surf, a dark object reflects the sun catching his attention; the phone. He has to grin as he picks it up. She got off. The helicopter came back; she got on and left the phone for him so he can contact them. He laughs with relief, sucking in a breath that loosens all his muscles.

"Jack?"

His heart breaks before he even looks at her. Kate's standing a few feet before him holding a few sticks for firewood. She's pale and too thin to be pregnant. Her eyes are red from tears or sleepless nights and her hair is unkempt even though it's in a ponytail.

Letting the sticks drop to the ground, he can clearly see her stomach, and how much it's grown. Her athletic body hides the pregnancy well, but the bump is so defined, so out of place on her that it gives her condition away. If there was any shred of doubt in his mind, seeing her before him now has definitely killed it.

He wants to ask her so many questions, so many things about how she's been, how she's feeling, if she has any symptoms, but he knows all of them will be unwelcome because of how he's treated her. Maybe she did trust him; maybe she just knew what his reaction would be, so she kept her pregnancy a secret.

Her face is so distraught and discouraged. So unlike the Kate he knows. She bites her lower trembling lip when he doesn't speak; maybe she thinks that he's going to bolt again.

Awkwardly, he clears his throat, "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," her answer isn't bitter or spiteful, but saddened and tired.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm," she presses her palm into her eye, her arm is a mere stick and her stomach looks like too much for her to carry. "I'm getting firewood and fresh fruit. I couldn't go out yesterday."

He understands the connotations of her words. She was too tired to go out yesterday, she's obviously weak now but because he left her she's been taking care of herself like he told her too. The guilt blooms anew within him and he knows the way he feels right now is nothing compared to what she's dealing with.

"Go lie down, Kate," he voices his plea softly, and keeps his face passive so she knows he comprehends her state.

"I'm fine."

"No," still gentle, "you're not."

"Jack," her palm reaches her head again, her fingers twitching as she closes her eyes, "If you really care, I'll go lie down."

"I mean it."

"You'll be here when I get up?"

"Yes."

She doesn't ask for more verification, doesn't ask him to promise her, or come wake her at a certain time so she'll know. It might be because she's exhausted, but faint spark of hope tells him it's because she still trusts him. As he starts off into the jungle, he wonders if she still prefers mangoes, or if she's craving something else.

* * *

_Next Chapter: Jack wakes up somewhere and doesn't remember how he got there. Plus lots of familiar people, and by lots I mean like two or three, but hey, it's something.  
_

_The next chapter probably won't be up until Sunday though, because I have two ten-hour shifts in the next two days. So any reviews would really make my horrible days.  
_


	28. Knots

_A/N: I wanted to get this chapter up quick, so it may have spelling mistakes and what not. Please forgive me, just this once.  
Once again, thanks for , there probably won't be an update for at least three days because I'm starting a second job so I'll be working 50+ hours a week and I'm writing Live Together, Die Alone as well.  
_

Left Behind

Chapter 28

Knots

"Can you hear me?" A firm palm jostles his left shoulder and he takes a deep inhalation of stale, humid air.

"His name is Jack Shephard," Sawyer's familiar drawl enters Jack's empty mind as he tries to make sense of his surroundings, his eyes flutter, but his vision is still dark.

"Mr. Shephard—" the new male voice continues, but Sawyer quickly interrupts it.

"He's a doctor."

"James," the screechy aggravation in the new voice is evident, "I'm going to ask you to—"

His eyes open to blinding fluorescent lights encaged on the low ceiling; the sick olive walls reflect the glow in the small almost metallic room. He lies on an inexpensive cot diagonally with his injured shoulder touching the wall. A sparse changing curtain stands at his feet and the room is decorated with first aid supplies and fire safety equipment.

"Dr. Shephard?" The new voice belongs to a man in his late forties, he's balding and sporting a good deal of gray hair. His tired eyes hide behind thick lenses in thin-rimmed glasses and three prominent wrinkles line up on his forehead. He's wearing a pastel blue shirt underneath a customary lab coat.

"Jack." feeling his eyebrows contort as his examination of the room continues. When he turns his head to the right, he finds Sawyer sprawling out on a cot similar to the one he is on with clean white bandages wrapped around his shoulder and abdomen.

"Ray," the other man points to himself and offers a hand to shake. He takes it cautiously and watches as Ray makes a mark on his clipboard, "Do you have any idea where you are?"

"No," he admits with a head shake that sends a burning sensation up his shoulder. The same bandages Sawyer has lie across his own arm and he remembers being shot by Ben.

"We got off, Doc," Sawyer's voice is casual, like the strange room means nothing to him. He takes a bit of an apple and sends a smirk, "Just before the Others started shooting at us you blacked out."

"What about Kate?"

"Freckles threw a hissy fit and made sure I got you on the chopper. That's how I got shot twice," Sawyer extends his pinkie finger while still holding the apple to point to his bicep and just under his arm, "Looks like we'll have us some war stories to tell."

"How is she?"

"She usually spends all day down here, waiting for you to wake up," Sawyer takes a loud bite, then proceeds to finish telling the story with his mouth full, "But she has to go up every so often 'cause being below sea level makes her sick."

Scratching at the clipboard, Ray sends a glance over his glasses, "If you'd like to go see her, make sure you're sitting down. Retaining your balance on this ship is hard and from what James tells me you don't have good footing to begin with."

Sawyer shrugs at him with a smug smile, "You've been out cold for two days Doc. I had to talk trash to get you up."

The cot squeaks as he sits up. The metal legs begin to shiver as his weight shifts and the weak piece of fabric pulled tightly over the skeleton sinks. His bare recoil as they touch the linoleum floor which seems colder than it should be. Ray offers him a plain white t-shirt and the fabric feels so clean and light in his hands, "Have you been up yet?"

"Nah," Sawyer nods his head towards Ray, "Good ol' Ray here says I ain't supposed to get out of bed before we dock back in Hawaii tomorrow."

His heart beats faster and he wipes his sweat soaked palms against his bloodstained jeans, "We're almost to Hawaii?" That means less than a day before he's potentially separated from Kate and their child.

"ETA is three o'clock tomorrow," Sawyer takes a final bit and tosses the apple core across the room. It bounces off a wall and lands in a garbage can, "Figures it would take me getting shot twice in order to go to Hawaii"

He forces a laugh, that sounds strangled as he steps over the threshold. His feet hit a colder, metallic floor with deep grooves in it and on either end of the corridor, there are only slate walls to great him.

Ray catches his confused expression, "Oh, take a left and keep walking until you see the stairs."

"Thanks."

"She's fine Doc," Sawyer lifts his arm as Ray presses into the bandaged areas, "She'll be glad to see you."

Smiling, because he wants to see her, he turns left accompanied only but the clangs of his heavy footsteps. He wonders if she was afraid, Lapidus must've met them at the field, but then Sawyer got shot. He wonders if she's afraid now, because she knows better than anyone, what she did and where she's going to go once they get back. He wonders if she'll keep on running. He knows that some part of her wants to, even when they were on the island.

After a few feet of walking, he comes to a dimly light passage where twelve rusty stairs lead their way up to a door with a porthole beside it. His breathing is a little labored and his head a little light as it takes more exertion for him to climb the stairs than actually walk, but he propels himself upward with the handrail.

Through the porthole he sees the sun setting on a horizon filled with glass colored ocean and framed with white chipped railings. Towards the bow he sees her reclining on a lounger, one hand thrown over her stomach and the other one resting underneath the small of her back. He waits, memorizing every detail about this moment, because she looks beautiful and over the next few months, he may need something to hold onto.

His hand slides to the door and he turns the crank. The sound is screechy and accosting as the heavy door grinds against the floor. Tripping over the lip that holds the door into place, his feet slap onto the wet wooden deck of the giant ship

The sounds attract her attention and as she fidgets to try to sit upright once she recognizes him, but the movement isn't happening and the best thing she can do is hold out her arms for him to embrace her.

"Jack," her breath is hot against his shoulder as his hands find her waist. She smells like strawberries and the wind is blowing her damp hair in every direction. Moving away, he analyzes her. Her skin isn't so pallid and a few butterfly stitches hold together the cut on her face. She still appears fatigued, but the smile on her face is too wide to ignore, "Thank God you're okay."

"I'm fine, Kate," it's all he says as his thumb slides down her soft cheek and he savors the feel of her skin, "How are you? How's the baby?"

She laughs through her grin, eyes glistening with relief as her hand reassuringly stroke her stomach, "We're going to be a family."

Reaching forward, he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and lets his hand linger on her face, "We were always a family."

She rocks forward pressing her lips into his and his hand moves underneath her hair, cradling her head because he doesn't want this to end. But she gasps against his lips, not in pleasure but pain and pulls away to hold her lower back.

"More contractions?" his posture drops and he leans over her, one hand on her stomach to feel the position of the baby and one underneath her to feel any obstructions.

"No," she arches her back away from the coolness of his hand, "Just a lot of bad backaches from sleeping in an actual bed."

One hand holds her bicep and the other her elbow as he helps her turn on her side, "You should try sleeping with a pillow between your legs."

"If it didn't work on the beach, why would it work now?"

Lifting her shirt to uncover her back, he lightly prods the muscles and frowns at the results, "All of your muscles are knotted," they're tight and hard as he presses his finger to her skin, "No wonder you're having backaches."

"Well this," she places a hand underneath her stomach and rolls back towards him, "Is the reason for that."

He has to laugh, because she wears her pale exposed stomach so awkwardly. A big protrusion that starts under her ribs, it slants downwards and jiggles when she moves. His hand replaces hers as he holds the bottom of her stomach like it might fall right off of her and he feels the baby start inside.

While keeping his hand still, he sits on the deck with his injured shoulder resting against the lounger. "Did Ray weigh you?"

"No," she laughs as her hand runs over his hair. The gesture is completely relaxing and he lets out a sigh, "I don't want to know how much I weigh. Do you?"

"I want you to have a healthy pregnancy weight," his hand starts to rub semi-circles below her belly button which is quickly becoming an outie. "Not gaining enough weight induces premature birth."

"So you think that's why I started to have contractions?"

Kate does deserve to know what Sawyer made so clear to him, that this baby may not be his. This is supported by the fact that her contractions stopped and her health increased tenfold since leaving the island. It makes him nervous and gives him a sinking feeling in his gut, not only to know that something he holds so dear might not be his. He can get over that, but the thought of someone taking the baby in an entirely legal way makes him nauseous. Though the only concrete biological relation to the baby is Kate, he can't bring himself to tell her what he knows.

"It seems like a good answer," he rests his head near her stomach watching it move with her breathes and wonders if the baby even knows him.

* * *

_Next Chapter - Oh Boy, did someone say Hawaii and police? Oh, it was me..._


	29. Sleep Tonight

_A/N: Hey guys. Sorry for not updating but this is the first time that I've actually been able to sit down and write a chapter, even if it is a short chapter.  
Thanks to everyone who reviewed/read/favorited/alerted. It's always rewarding to know how many people actually like this story. Sadly, there probably won't be another update for a little over a week. I think I have to work eight days straight. Blah. I'm also trying so hard to write Live Together, Die Alone but the next chapter is massive and I just keep adding stuff to it.  
_

Left Behind

Chapter 29

Sleep Tonight

"She's really active tonight," Jack's warm hand falls on her stomach and she hears the chuckle in his voice.

Sighing, she rubs her cheek against his left shoulder trying to clear her mind of sleep, "She?"

His hand starts to rub in a circular motion over her stomach with kicks following his movements, "Sorry, slip of my tongue."

"Right," her voice is an irritated mumble. She hasn't slept well since they made it to the ship. The combination of worrying about Jack and Sawyer and caring for Aaron made it impossible to sleep and pushed her to the peak of exhaustion.

Finally, when she couldn't stand up straight any longer, Sawyer had Hurley corral her into a room with the promise that he would watch over everyone. The second her eyes closed, the nightmares began, hellish reenactments of her near year spent on the island. Particularly focusing on their gruesome escape.

Lapidus yelling out to them, unshaven and red-faced, to run faster as an infinite number of others popped up on the periphery of the clearing. Sawyer screamed in her ear to get in the helicopter and she screamed back to put Jack on first because he was unresponsive and so pale. His blood still permeated the shirt and she just wanted him to be okay.

Still supporting Jack, Sawyer managed to clamp on to her bicep and drag her out of the firing range, "Get in the Goddamn chopper now." His voice was a growl but she could clearly hear it over the barrage of gun shots. His expression harsh as he pushed her towards the interior.

Without another word, she struggled to get in. Hurley, already in the helicopter with little Aaron ensconced in the corner of one arm, offered her a helping hand in. When she was seated, he handed her the baby, "Take the little Dude, so I can help Sawyer."

Then Aaron was in her arms, he was so much bigger than she remembered, though the last time she held him was shortly after delivering him. He was around seven months old and seemed to fit against her perfectly in his sleep with one leg around each side of her stomach with his head resting on her chest.

"Doc's out cold," Sawyer grunted as he and Hurley maneuvered Jack into the helicopter so he rested with his head thrown back and motionless beside Hurley.

Sawyer pushed up on his palms, "Let's get—"

Two bullets ripped through him and exited through the other side of the helicopter. Sawyer fell flat on the floor and as his blood seeped into the metal grooves he groaned to Lapidus, "Go. Go."

That's usually where the nightmare stops. She doesn't know why, maybe because she's never been more afraid than that very moment.

She feels guilty about both of them getting shot, about Aaron not having a mother. She's the direct cause of all the chaos that's ensued in the last five and a half months. So she waited in the infirmary for Jack to wake up and to keep Sawyer company and she takes Aaron from Hurley whenever he needs a break.

Jack grins against the crown of her head as he notices the pattern in the baby's kicking, "She, um, it's going to be a smart baby."

"Why she?" She's trying not to be short with Jack, he's done nothing wrong. She's lying on an actual mattress, the bottom level of bunk beds which Jack insisted she have, while he's on a flimsy cot pulled up as close as it can get.

His hand stops, almost retracting from her stomach, "I'm just tired."

Then his thumb strokes lazily over her belly button, the kicks slow and the flare of pain that's in her lower back relaxes, "me too."

The silence only seems to last for a second, before the metal clank of someone knocking at the door startles her, Jack and the baby awake.

"Hey Doc," Sawyer's drawl sifts through the door, "Wake up, it's important."

Jack swipes a hand over his eyes, and groans when he tries to move his right shoulder.

"I can get it."

"No," he smiles at her and presses his dry lips to her forehead, "Go back to sleep."

He turns away before she can argue, but when she hears the metal screech of the door being opened, she forces herself to sit up and waits for a minute to see if that acrid taste in her throat is a sign of morning sickness.

"Doc," Sawyer is almost breathless as the fluorescent lights illuminate the room, "We're about to dock at the Hawaiian Naval Base."

She watches as Jack scratches the back of his head with sleepy inaccuracy, "So?" His question sounds more like a yawn.

"So, the police are waiting for her," Sawyer points at her and suddenly she's wide awake.

"What?" His words have the same effect on Jack.

"They're waiting for us to dock, and then they're going to take her into custody."

"She's pregnant," Jack's voice is stuttering with disbelief and fear.

Sawyer sighs, his eyebrows droop and his hand lazily gestures at her again, "Don't you think I told them that? They're going to take her anyway."

"No," Jack shakes his head and she sees his jaw set in defiance, "She needs immediate medical attention, her weight is low, she's malnourished and the extra stress—"

"They know all that," Sawyer shakes his head as he interrupts, "They're gonna let her get checked out, but it's gonna be in a different room and under supervision."

She finds that her hands have absentmindedly found their way to her stomach. She looks down at the bump stretching out the white tank top Lapidus gave her when they landed and wonders if the baby is actually going to be better off away from the island. Her vision blurry from the congregating tears, she looks back up to Sawyer, "What about getting back to LA?"

He sighs, and rubs at the back of his neck with his good arm, "They're gonna send you on a separate plane with guards after you're cleared."

Jack is horrified, his eyes wide and his face losing color as she can see him try to think of a loophole. She knows her helpless glance to him will only exacerbate the situation, but she needs the reassurance bad.

Instead Sawyer shakes his head, "I don't know what the hell you did Freckles, but you sure the hell pissed them off."

* * *

_Next Chapter - Again, it'll be from Kate's POV as the popo finally get a hold of her.  
_


	30. Still

_A/N: Sorry for the no update guys, but my jobs make me exhausted. I have a few days off now so I'm going to try to write at least two more chapters and hopefully space out the updating a little. I'm also a little bleary-eyed right now, so if there's grammar or whatever errors please ignore.  
Thanks to everyone who read/reviewed/favorited/alerted, I'm so glad you guys are still into the story. _

Left Behind

Chapter 30

Still

Sawyer was right; the cops were waiting for her. Three armed guards lined the dock with their hands lingering by their waists to grab their guns. She and Jack saw them immediately, but she didn't run, she couldn't because they would've caught her eventually.

So instead she crushed Jack's hand in hers and took all of her reserved energy to not let her face crack. Not let anyone know how terrified she was at that very moment. Jack steadied her when her foot first made the jump between the rusty incline and the precarious wooden dock. All three guards watched with caution as he straightened her and placed his hand on her stomach one last time.

It didn't even last for a second before the middle guard jutted a thumb behind him at a concrete building, "Let's go."

Pursing her lips together, her hand let his drop and she waddled towards the man who had retrieved a pair of handcuffs.

"Do you really need those?" Jack took a step forward with his chest all puffy and full of bravado but stopped when the other guards gestured for it.

"Yes," the response was stoic as she turned away from Jack and felt the cold metal snap around her wrists.

"She's pregnant."

The guard adjusted the cuffs tightly; she felt like she couldn't breathe, "I can see that," there was still no emotion as she was passed to the next guard and accompanied down the dock.

Jack's voice echoed off the emptiness of the pier, she knew he was trying to push through the barricade that she inadvertently placed between them, and that he wasn't going to have any luck.

"She needs medical attention, her weight is low and—"

"What are you, a doctor?"

"Actually, yeah I am."

"Well, she's a criminal."

After that they ran some blood tests, weighed her and started her on an IV, all the while she was handcuffed together.

Now she's reclining on a stretcher in a sterile white room, wearing a generic blue hospital gown and a cheap cotton sheet over her legs. Lunch just ended and in less than an hour, the doctor will be in to change over her IV and plead with her to get an ultrasound. She'll still refuse.

The doctor won't clear for transport back to L.A. until she has an ultrasound and she won't agree to the procedure unless Jack is present. It's not that big of a demand, but the guards seem adamant on her not getting anything she requests. She's not letting Jack miss out on the first ultrasound.

Because she could've been transported back yesterday, the guards have no patience left. This is the reason they handcuffed her so securely to the stretcher that she barely has enough room to feed herself.

A shrill squeak reverberates through the empty room as the silver doorknob turns and the doctor walks in. He's an elderly English man, very close to retirement. She knows this because he rambles all the things that he wants to accomplish before dying. He calls it his 'Bucket List'. His small eyes hide behind thick, but equally small spectacles and his head is bald except for a few stringy pieces of white hair.

"Afternoon Ms. Austen," he greets her without taking his eyes off of his clipboard, "How was your lunch today?"

"Fine," her hands cross over her stomach to remind him that he's not going to do anything that's close to an ultrasound, "And Kate is fine."

"Right. Right," he nods taking off his glasses and letting them hang from a chain around his neck, "I forget little things like that so I have enough room to remember medical procedures and all that boring stuff."

She shares a genuine smile with him, because she likes him. He doesn't judge her the way the rest of the guards do. He knows what she did and where she's been, but he still treats her like a decent human being. "Changing the IV?"

"Yes. Yes," he has a habit of repeating himself. His white lab coat camouflages him with the wall as he turns to retrieve the right dosage. He holds the bag until it's almost touching his eyes to read the fine print, "I don't suppose I could convince you to get an ultrasound today?"

"I only have one prerequisite."

"I couldn't persuade a first time mother with the fact that it would be extremely beneficial to know the exact state of the fetus," after hanging the bag full of clear liquid from the stand he gives her a look that pleads for her consideration.

Shrugging, she ignores the twinge of pain in her arm as he tugs on the tubes while transferring them over, "I lived on an island for five and a half months without a single ultrasound and this baby is still growing fine."

"Hmm," he muses while replacing his glasses at the end of his nose, "It's not that. It's those boorish guards who won't let the father be present."

Turning her attention back to her stomach, her voice falters, "That too."

"Well," he sighs loudly through his nostrils and scratches something down on the clipboard, "Lucky for you, I've gone over their heads and talked their superior into allowing another human being in this room."

"What," her head whips up and her teeth sink into her lower lip.

He chuckles from deep in his chest and places the clipboard down on a stainless steel counter, "Consider it my going away present."

Still not fully aware what is happening, the doctor leaves the room for a minute, leaving her alone with a heart beating so faster that the baby starts to kick. For what seems like hours, the only sound in the room is her breathing and the steady beat of the heart monitor.

Then the door opens and after the aged doctor enters, Jack is right there. She immediately notices the differences in him. His hair is a little shorter, his stubble is gone but his skin holds the waxy sheen of sleepless nights and his left eye is bruised black and hiding a small cut on his cheek. He's wearing a bright white dress shirt and a pair of black slacks accented with shiny black dress shoes and she knows he's going home today.

"Kate." When he speaks, she knows that they're feeling the same relief, the tension is gone because they at least get a chance to say goodbye.

"Now I know this is a reunion," the doctor wheels a machine across the floor, "but I'd really like to do the procedure, then I promise I'll give you a few minutes to yourselves."

"Okay," Jack agrees. He walks carefully, new shoes not scuffing the floor and takes her hand in his as much as he can without strain on the cuffs.

The doctor flips on the machine and the screen turns from black to a pale gray, numbers scroll across it as the program loads, "Can you pull your gown up a bit."

On instinct she reaches but there is not enough slack from the cuffs to do so.

There isn't even enough time to blink before Jack responds, "I got it." He pulls the sheets up to just under her stomach and her gown to just over, exposing the protrusion of skin. When he returns to her side again, his thumbs move against her wrist, massaging where the cuffs dig into her skin.

"All right," the doctor sits on a rolling stool and shakes a bottle of something, "This is going to be cold."

She nods and inhales sharply when the icy ooze is drizzled over her stomach.

"And a little bit of pressure," He touches what looks like a wand to her stomach, the presses down with some force.

There is an immediate noise that sounds like thumping in a hollow room, "There's the baby's heartbeat," the doctor points at something flickering on the screen, "and there's the heart."

She doesn't speak a word because the shape that shows up on the screen, the shape of what's inside her looks exactly like a baby. After everything they've been through on the island, they finally have a concrete image of their baby. Glancing at Jack, he doesn't look back, but the broad smile that pulls against his lips exudes his pride.

At a point that shows the perfect profile of their baby, the doctor freezes the screen, "Everything looks fine. The fetus is healthy; I'd say you're just shy of six months along. Unfortunately due to the baby's position, I can't tell you the gender."

"I didn't want to know anyway," through her revelation, she feels Jack's dejection. Of course he would want to know, they've already been through so much, that she's sure Jack would plan every minute of her remaining pregnancy if he could.

The doctor nods with an understanding smile, makes a few more notes, and shuffles towards the door, "I'll leave you two alone for a few minutes."

The sound of the lock clicking on the door draws her out of her reverie of just staring at the caption on the monitor. Turning to Jack, she notices the same awe in his eyes, "What do you think?"

"I think it's gorgeous."

Then he's kissing her, there's passion, but nothing too rough. Enough to let her know that he really did miss her, which she never doubted. She knows he did. She knows he missed her even when he chose to leave their settlement on the beach.

He falls to his knees beside her so she can reach him with enough slack from the cuffs. His hot breath tickles her ear as he laughs weakly; his cheek is smooth against hers as his hand moves to cradle her head. Dragging the pad of her finger lightly to his black eye she questions, "What happened?"

"When they took you off the dock, I tried to go after you," he forces another laugh and bows his head making her drop her hand, "things got violent."

Despair creeps back into her mind, "You shouldn't have Jack." Guilt soon follows because she's dragged him into this. She wonders if he'll ever have a normal life again, one where he's a respected doctor who doesn't have to worry about a baby with a convict mother.

His lips press to the tip of her nose and he rests his forehead against hers, "You'll always be worth it."

"It's going to be awhile before we see each other again, isn't it?" She closes her eyes to capture her tears and focuses on Jack, how he still smells like salt water and sweat though they've been off the island for over a week.

Jack draws away and grabs a white cloth from the stainless steel counter, "Kate, we're going to beat this. Hurley said he would pay for the best lawyer, and we have settlements coming from Oceanic," his hand is gentle as it wipes away the remaining gel from her stomach in swift, skillful movements, "You might not even have to be in jail until after you have the baby."

"Because that's so much better," she huffs with sarcasm and tries to swat at an escaped tear.

Jack smudges it across her cheek with his thumb, careful the cut that no longer needs butterfly stitches, "It would at least give us time to get settled. Buy a house and get ready for the baby without being rushed."

"You may need to do that stuff without me, Jack," she sighs when he cups her cheek and rolls her head to the side and finds his gritless fingertips.

"No."

"Jack," her voice is even and calm as she watches his expression, the way the lines etched in his face as deeper from fatigue, "this baby deserves a home."

He slips his hand into hers and presses a kiss to her cheek, "And we won't have one until you're there with us."

Then all too soon the door opens again, with the elderly doctor swatting away the guards away with a manila folder, "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid it's time for you to go."

Jack nods, his fingers tightening around hers as he kisses her one last time, "I'll find you," his eyes burn unblinking into hers, "I promise that wherever they put you, I'll find you again."

She can't think of anything to say. That it's thoughtful and warms her heart, but it's meaningless. Even if he does find her, she'll still be locked up. Short from staging a prison break, there's very little Jack can do.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"Take care of your mom," he whispers to her stomach and kisses the pale skin lightly.

His fingers slip from hers, his shoes tap across the floor, the door closes and the scent of him is gone. As the doctor blathers on about specifics and what time she'll be leaving tonight as he tidies up the room, she wonders what the odds are that Jack will actually find her; if he won't forget about her once they get settled in L.A.

* * *

_Next Chapter - Someone visits someone else somewhere. Ha ha ha ambiguity. _


	31. Restrained

_A/N: Hey guys. So originally this chapter was supposed to be Jack visiting Kate in jail. But that's way too predictable, so I reworked it some to add in that special Shiggity quality angst. I also like to call this chapter, 'The Chapter of Interruptions'. Because most of it was dramatic dialogue during the first draft, which segues into plenty of verbal interruptions.  
Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed/read/alerted/favorited the story. Welcome to the cool club.  
The only sad thing (for me, not for you) is I'm pretty sure I'll never stop writing this story because I have it planned out way to far in the future. _

Left Behind_  
_

Chapter 31

Restrained  
(The Chapter of Interruptions)

When they informed her of a visitor, she assumes it's the Lawyer. The Lawyer who's attachment to her is second only to the fetus growing inside of her. The Lawyer, Ilana something, is intent on winning this case probably because of all the publicity surrounding it. It's not every day that a pregnant woman is shuttled from an abandoned island directly to jail. From one form of solitary confinement to another.

Of course she only knows this by gossip, by mouthy guards who try to egg her on because they only know the illegal half of what she did, not the violent reason that fueled her to take the action. They say things about the baby, about the different horrifying things that should happen to her and it until the Lawyer forced the judge to rule that she be placed in solitary quarters with only prescreened guards. It seems like a win, the Lawyer told her to count it as a win, but she's still in jail.

Part of her, the shred of hope that she's protected like a flickering flame in a thunderstorm prays that Jack's finally come. That he'll be standing in the bricked in room, in a suit and tie with his hands shoved in his pockets and a nervous smile gracing his lips. But every time she asks the Lawyer about Jack, she shakes her head and continues rambling on about how the best defense is a good offense and how they need to get everything bad out front.

She calls the Lawyer by a title and not a name, because the woman hasn't really done her any favors. The Lawyer's careful about never divulging too much information about the trial, never saying who the main witness is. Figuratively and literally she's stuck in a six by eight cell.

The handcuffs clink as she walks with a guard down a long stretch of hallway, they've yet to shackle her feet, probably because her stomach is so big now that even if she wanted to run, even if she wanted to use her feet to kick her way out of the jail, she couldn't. She's nearing seven months and she's terrified that the first thing the baby is going to see is an orange jumpsuit and some loopy prison doctor.

The guard yanks at the lead covered door that leads to the single visitation room. It's where she always meets the Lawyer. The walls are solid brick, painted over in a puce color, but there's a camera posted in every corner and visits are limited.

The stiff humid air hits her as she ambles to the doorway. Behind the guard voices with no indication of care or emotion, "You got twenty minutes."

She smells his cigarettes before she even sees him and by the time she's registered who's waiting for her, the door slams shut and she's locked in another cell.

He sits with his hands clasped together over the steel table. When he sees her discomfort he gains a superior grin and leans back slightly to enjoy the view, "You smuggling a concealed weapon under there Freckles?"

"Why are you here Sawyer?" She doesn't understand why, but at that moment, she's never been more mortified in her entire life. She never given a second thought to her stirred emotions about Jack visiting her in jail, but the fact that Sawyer is here, examining her as she walks around in prison garbs makes her want to throw up.

"I was in the neighborhood," he leans back more securing his hands behind his head, then crossing his legs and placing his feet on the corner of the table, "Thought I'd drop in."

"Sawyer," she sighs, trying to rub her eyes clear of the bright light in the iridescent room.

With one final flick to the corners of his smile, he drops the act and his feet drop from the table, "You know Freckles, you might actually want to hear me out."

Torn between clawing at the door until a guard comes or her fingernails bleed, or attempting to have a civil conversation with Sawyer, she glances at him and then back at the door. A few ringlets fall loose from her ponytail and tickle the back of her neck.

"Jesus, just sit down Kate," he shoots a long arm out to show her exactly where the chair is; "you don't have to talk, just sit. That belly of yours looks like hell to carry."

Knowing full well that the best Sawyer is going to do is make wise cracks about Jack's abandonment of her, she can't justify why she slides the metal chair across the concrete and holds her stomach as the hard angles of the seat dig into her body. She arches her back to get comfortable, but finds that space between her stomach and the table is scarce.

After she stops fidgeting, Sawyer doesn't say a word. So she edges him on with an irksome arch of her eyebrows.

"How you doing, Freckles?"

"Sawyer, I swear to God—"

"Just answer the damn question."

"Well let's see, I'm in jail and almost seven months pregnant. I still have morning sickness almost every day, I haven't been sleeping because every night I have nightmares, my feet are swollen, my back is aching, the baby is pressing up into my ribs so it hurts to breathe and the father hasn't visited me once in two weeks," she huffs and crosses her arms over the top of her stomach, "That's how I'm doing."

"The good Doc can't visit you," Sawyer regains his smug disposition as he leans in, the hot gossip dripping from his mouth like his drawl, "That hotshot lawyer of yours thinks the judge will go easier on you if you're a single mama."

Tucking her stomach underneath the lip of the table, she leans in as far as she can, "So she just put a veto on his visits?"

"Pretty much, yeah," They're only a few inches apart, trading stories across a prison table like they're in a high school cafeteria, "She's got buddies embedded in the system."

"Great."

"But that's why I'm here," he leans back but the stench of cigarettes still lingers and the air around her face feels is moist as it touches her cheeks.

"Because you're one of these buddies?"

"No, I'm here as a proxy for the Doc," reaching down, Sawyer pulls a book out of a bag and lets it crash to the center of the table, "apparently he thinks you need to bone up before the final."

Turning the cover around the title reads _What to Expect When You're Expecting_. She laughs once before stifling it in her throat, because it's such a Jack gift. Because Sawyer really is just a surrogate, "Aren't people going to assume since you're the only man who's visited me, that you're the father?"

"Snuck in through the back with the help of Super Lawyer while Hurley hammed up your sob story for the cameras," reclining further, he feels into his jeans until he retrieves a pack of cigarettes. His bloodshot eyes catch hers and he must sense her primal indignation, because quickly the pack disappears, "I was just checking to see if I still had them."

A dull bang is heard on the other side of the door as the guard rams his fist into it, "You've got five minutes."

"I'd better go," her body wavers as she tries to remember how to stand and regain balance but she manages to pull it off without needing Sawyer's help. Her hand touches the smooth cover of the book and she shares a sincere smile with Sawyer, "Thanks for this."

He doesn't react, because he panics at times of sentimentality, so she nods for him and turns to the door. Without taking a step, his long fingers slide around her wrist with the cuffs and restrain her for a moment. Instead of his usual conceited expression, his eyebrows slant and his eyes are distant and full of hurt. "Don't say the father never visited you."

"Sawyer," the huff of his name comes out as a nasal whine, because she's tired of dealing with this drama.

"I did a pretty damn nice thing coming here today," his fingers don't grow in strength around her wrist, but their unwavering as she tests wrenching away, "You could at least hear me out."

With one swift movement, she regains her arm away from him and sets her jaw, "Fine."

"I know that Juliet did something to you and Jack."

Her eyes focus on the mediocre clock behind him that seems to be ticking backwards, "So?"

"So you really think it resulted in a Goddamn baby?"

Scoffing at his disbelief she blurts out, "There was a smoke monster and polar bears," there's actually a compiled list of things she's not supposed to mention, "It's not that—"

He bows his head, with his focus on fingers that he just can't seem to keep still, "Do you think there's even a chance I'm the daddy?"

"Sawyer—"

"What Juliet did, did it happen around the same time we were locked up?"

Her chest seizes, like the baby's feet are kicking the bottom of her ribs. "Less than a week."

When he shoves the heavy table in one swift movement the severity returns making his voice sound guttural, "And you don't think—"

"Of course I think, Sawyer," she drowns him out with a glare and silences him by placing a hand on her stomach, trying to coax the baby down, "I think about all the time. What would happen. What it would mean to me. What it would mean to Jack."

Throwing up his arms, he stands from his chair and she remembers just how tall he is, "What about me?"

"You left Sawyer." She speaks the words without a fraction of remorse.

"You said you were sure you weren't pregnant."

"You knew there was a possibility and you still left."

"Yeah," running a hand through his sandy hair, he pulls the corner of the table back to meet the deep grooves in the floor, "well I ain't leaving now."

"What do you mean?"

"We need to figure out who the hell the daddy is."

* * *

_Next Chapter - Jack is back and he finally has a point-of-view again! Plus a flashback based around one of our favorite deceased characters (not Claire). Care to wager who it is?  
_


	32. What Juliet Did

_A/N: Hey guys. Sorry for not updating, but blah blah blah jobs. My new goal is to update once a week, so hopefully I can stick to that. I also tried to keep this as canonical as possible with Jack's car and his alcohol. But I must say it gets a little confusing with the pronouns. As a common rule whenever 'he' is used and it's Jack POV chapter it 95% of the time refers to Jack. Just thought I might shed a bit of light on that.  
Oh also, I skipped the courtroom stuff because my brain has 0% knowledge of how that works.  
Thanks to everyone who read/reviewed/alerted/favorited. _

Left Behind

Chapter 32

What Juliet Did

The pads of his fingers, slick with sweat, slip from his keys as he turns the ignition off in his Bronco. The radio crackles out and the slight shaking of the vehicle subsides just as another minute ticks away on the clock. Taking a deep inhalation of the air conditioned atmosphere which is quickly dissipating, he rubs his sweaty palms against his black slacks as he waits for her to walk into the dim underground garage.

His throat is dry because he's nervous as hell. He's been trying all day to bring himself to count to five, but by the time he gets to three, he's sidetracked by thinking about her, about the fact that their lives can finally start again, even if it is for a small amount of time.

The last thing she told him before he boarded a flight for L.A. with Lapidus, Sawyer, Hurley and Aaron, was how this, her being imprisoned, shouldn't stunt his life. He knows that she wants him to live as normally as possible, but he's never been a fan of normal. He knows that she wants him to continue to do the things he loves, which is part of the reason he's requested reinstatement as a doctor. But she doesn't understand that she and this baby are the biggest part of his life now, and he can't be in motion again until they're all together.

He refuses to buy a house, not without discussing it with Kate first. They need to agree on things. He made that mistake with Sarah, surprising her by buying a house that he thought she'd love. It turns out that he didn't know her too well. Now he needs to do everything with Kate, survey the neighborhoods for the best schools, argue over paint colors and couch patterns; even have the awkward talk about bedrooms because they're really deciding how many children they'll have.

His thoughts dissolve at the idea of having more children. Although it excites him, he thinks they need to deal with the present. The baby, he prays is a girl. Not for the old reasons, how he might fail a son because his father failed him, but because a girl would look more like Kate, act more like Kate and he wouldn't have to question her biology when staring at her little face every day.

When he's not obsessing about his future with Kate, he tries to understand the procedure Juliet did. Could she really make Kate pregnant by just using blood? If anyone could do it, it was Juliet. She had the incite and the intelligence, but her personal matters were cooped up so tightly, that he wished he'd gotten to know her better. Wish he'd talked to her about their profession.

At night sometimes he has dreams that replay her death so clearly that he wakes up in a hot sweat that feels like her blood covering his body. She was forced to do what she did, and she was trying to help them. She could've used Sawyer as a donator, but instead she picked him. Maybe she saw him interact with Kate, saw the way he would devote himself to her, saw the way that she relaxed when he was around her and the way his forgiveness towards her was almost immediate.

Maybe it was in the file. That he'd wanted children so badly with Sarah, but she didn't want to give up her freedom or body yet. Time passed and he just stopped asking if she was ready. More time passed and a false pregnancy test chased her away. He loved Sarah, but he was more devoted to his job. Maybe Juliet did this to make him realize that there were more important things than his job.

Now, out of pure guilt, he remembers her dying after a barrage of bullets hailed through her body from a firing brigade of Others. How she dropped flaccid to the ground and her blood made the dirt around her body muddy. How she grinned at him with mirth thirty seconds before being massacred. How she knew that Kate was pregnant and that he, supposedly was the father. How that day before they left to go into the jungle, she spewed all this information about island pregnancies to him. About what to do and what happens at what month. She went into specific details about procedures he had no concept of understanding at the time. How she told him all this because she knew she was going to die.

Lucidity returns as his remorse is momentarily forgotten. Through two large sets of glass double doors she walks into the garage, her head hangs down creating a wall of ringlets that hide her face in shame. She stops at a chipped yellow line painted in the asphalt. The only thing she has is a backpack pasted with sand that he hasn't seen since the island.

"Kate," he slams his door and jogs over to meet her, the warmth swelling in his heart because he finally feels that his life can start again.

She turns towards him with a weak smile that he's seen only once before, when he returned to her after leaving the beach. Her eyes are lifeless from her fatigue, seemingly skimming over everything without comprehending a thing. In an instant he knows something is wrong. He wants to help her, never wants to stop, but the space between them feels stressed, like the air is frozen, "I can't go with you Jack."

The words are blunt, but they cut like the sharpest knife. He stops approaching her, shoes no longer clicking on the ground and it feels like his tongue is swollen, "What?"

"I can't go home with you," her eyes grow glassy like this is hurting her more than him. She bows her head, unable to look at him anymore, "I need to be alone for a little while."

"You were just alone for three weeks," He can't help the bitter taste of the words as they spew out of his mouth.

His question doesn't extract the same response from her, instead she keeps her submissive tone, "I need to be alone where I'm free."

"Why," he steps forward and grabs her arm, fingers pressing over the cool, smooth skin.

"After all this Jack," when she glances up at him, her eyelashes fan and the first two tears escape from the corners of her eyes, "don't I deserve to be alone just for a little while?"

Relaxing his hand, he tries to gain control of his voice as feelings of sorrow and resentment replace the excitement he felt only moments ago. She's going to leave him again. Her hand slips into his, and when he looks into her eyes again they're pleading with him. He sighs and rubs a thumb over her knuckles, "Yeah, you do."

"It's not your fault Jack," of course she can sense his equal recriminations, "I know why you didn't come visit me."

"Your lawyer said that would go easier on you if they didn't think you were involved," He should've told that lawyer that he didn't care what she thought. That this was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, that she's carrying a baby he loves, that what the judge and the jury and the press thought didn't matter. "I just wanted you to get out of jail."

"And look how well that worked."

"You're out of jail."

"But I have to go back."

"Only to court, and that's after you have the baby Kate," he wishes she could see how important it is that they get to spend this time together.

Though he speaks with mild indignation, her reply is a small but sincere smile, "You were there?"

"Yeah," he shares the smile and the air grows in temperature, "you looked beautiful."

She still does because she's wearing the same thing, a simple white maternity dress that bunches around her stomach in a loose bow and falls to just above her knees. When he first saw her in the courtroom from his vantage point in the back left corner, he couldn't believe how she looked. In three weeks her stomach has exploded outward in size. The last time he saw her, it was awkward and slanted where the baby laid, now it's rounded outwards like she's stuck a beach ball underneath her shirt.

He remembers beaming and nodding at the stranger beside him in the audience as she waddled towards the stand for questioning, how he was proud of her for doing this the right way, how he was proud of himself because she loved him. He wore a more secretive smile when Kate got nervous, with her pregnancy she grew a terrible tell of placing her arms on her stomach when she became nervous, like she was defending the baby. He thinks he still feels proud, that it's just diluted a little bit by his confusion.

Reaching into his pocket he retrieves his wallet, "take this," he pulls out a credit card and forces it into her hand.

"Jack—"

"Stay in a nice hotel," he closes her hand around the card and lets his fingers linger for a moment, "Just, don't go too far away, okay?"

She smiles at him and nods, "Okay."

"Take this too," he hands her his cellphone, "It's got my home number programmed in. Maybe you could call me tomorrow or the next day just so I know that you're okay."

Her lower lip trembles, maybe from his actions, or maybe from her own but she nods and breathes a noiseless, "yes." Then she flings her arms around his neck and her stomach almost knocks the air out of him.

He laughs into her tamed hair, reveling in how her scent is still recognizable and how hard it is to wrap his arms around her once frail body. He remembers how she looked on the beach when he returned, how disheveled and lost she was before they found each other. Then he realizes that she wants to leave again.

* * *

The door at his new apartment sticks, the rubber stopper lining the bottoms shrieks across the dark oak floors until it crawls under the ledge and stops the door. He forgets this as he runs right into the corner of the heavy painted wood door.

Recoiling a foot or so, he runs a hand over the stinging indent on his forehead and grunts when he finds traces of blood in the grooves of his fingertips. Using the rage that's been burning in him all day from misunderstandings, his hands assault the door until a deep crack resonates through the empty hallway. The door surrenders, opening easier but hanging looseon the hinges and there's five points of red residue where his hand can into contact with the white paint.

He slams the door behind him, not caring if the elderly couple next door or the single mom across the hall call the Super. He feels trapped, like he did on the island, like Kate's condition is his fault and there's not a damn thing he can do to make it right. She doesn't even know half of the problem, she doesn't know that since they've been back, Sawyer's obsessing over a daughter that he's never met and is prepared to do anything he needs to in order to assuage the guilt he's feeling. This includes the undying need to know if he's the biological father of Kate's unborn child because he doesn't want to mess up the sacred relationship between father and child again.

What Sawyer doesn't realize is that he and Kate finally have a sound relationship, that whether Sawyer is the father or not, this baby brought them together and he is ready to raise the child as his own even if he isn't the father. Sawyer wanting to fill this requirement is already causing riffs between himself and Kate. The conman said he didn't tell her about the renewed doubt of the baby's paternity, but he is a conman after all.

He throws his keys at the wall so hard that they chip off the paint. Beads of sweat pop up on the back of his neck as he slackens his tie and drops his suit jacket on the back of his kitchen chair. His want for everything to be uncomplicated is making his stomach churn and clench like a fist. He just wants to relax, to not feel the incessant panic that he did on the island, but the feeling is constant.

He moves into the kitchen, it's small in size, but all the appliances are up to date, he even bought a new coffee machine in case he starts work before the baby was born, but now it seems so fruitless.

Without hesitation, he moves to the last cabinet and divides the dishes to reveal what he's been craving since Kate left him in that garage without a second glance. The clear, unopened bottle of vodka stands tall in the dusty crook of the cupboard. The bottle is cooler than he expected when he grabs the neck and heavier when he has its full weight in his hands.

Throughout the last three weeks, he can't count how many times he's wanted to crack open the bottle and just drink until everything went away, but the thought of Kate and how it would be to have her with him indefinitely without any strings and just know that they were finally free. Now that doesn't seem like a good enough reason.

Out of habit, he reaches into his slack pockets to search for his keys to open the bottle, but instead of the familiar jingle comes a muffled crumple. He pulls out a folded piece of paper and already knows what it is; he's only been showing it to everyone who passed him on the street for the last three weeks.

Setting the bottle down on the counter, he flattens out the paper and smiles at the faces he's memorized. He remembers when the doctor first handed him the picture of the ultrasound, like he could foresee what they were going to have to go through or how hard it would be. The doctor caught him just before he left the building and stated, "I believe this belongs to you," while handing him the perfect profile of the baby.

He stares at the baby's nose, at its perfect head and its perfect balled hands. The way that it's ensconced in a semi circle with its knees bent and its feet in the air. He tries to count the fingers and toes, but the white outline of the digits seem to blend together. He wishes he knew the gender, but the doctor was right, the baby was clever enough to be in a position where it is impossible to tell. He smiles, leaning against the counter and forgetting the vodka because it's definitely Kate's baby.

* * *

_Next Chapter - We find out why Kate left. I'll give you a hint...someone else visited her in jail that was not The Lawyer or the Sawyer. _


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